


Latet Anguis in Herba

by Slide (JustSlide)



Series: Latet Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon-adjacent, Coming of Age, Covers events of books 3-5, F/M, Fully canon-compliant, Gen, Not all Slytherins are evil!, OC-centric, Slytherins, The 'Lower Decks' of HP Fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 15:11:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 49,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17603684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSlide/pseuds/Slide
Summary: Slytherin House is a hard place to be in the run-up to the Second War. Any student has to worry about classes, careers, juggling the wishes of teachers and parents; a Slytherin gets the rest of the school's judgement, the internal politics of prejudice and choosing sides. How do the decent but cunning, the moral but ambitious, walk the thin green line?A collection of shorts covering the school years of a group of Slytherins in the year above Harry





	1. Prologue

  A downpour of rain is normal anywhere in the British Isles at any time of year. Even in the middle of summer, if every other corner of the world were bright and sunny and warm there is a near-guarantee that every Brit foolish enough to stay at home would be sopping wet.  
  
Pleasant weather strikes from time to time, but it is so rare and random that the natives cherish it as if it were a gift from God above himself. They suddenly develop outdoor habits normally unavailable to them in the harsh climate (with the sole exception of rugby, a sport which is not a true sport if the wind isn’t howling at the players’ legs and the rain lashing at their faces. It is a _man_ _’s_ game, after all, and men can be quite particular about such things).  
  
But most of the time ideal rugby weather prevails in Britain. As such, inhabitants of the Isles have mastered the art of enjoying themselves indoors, devising a whole range of activities to suit this necessity. Badminton is one such sport - a tennis which doesn’t destroy the decoration, as the fattest king of the English discovered. Cards is presumably another (for truly, who but the insipidly royalist Brits would put kings and queens on them?). Tiddlywinks is almost certainly one - who else would come up with such a ridiculous name? And, finally, there is the most honoured tradition of all: drinking.  
  
Not _solely_ the consumption of alcohol, though that indeed is a big part of it. No, tea will do a Brit very nicely, as a leftover from their imperialistic ways and a habit possibly mandated by royal decree. But they are dedicated to their alcohol, even if the Brits don’t produce much drink of note save their gin. Their beer is rather like one of their chief food exports, Marmite: loved or hated and with very little in between, and the continentals as a rule cannot stand it. Nevertheless, British pubs are a unique invention upon this Earth, and not even the most modern or trendy of bars can compare to a traditional British pub, a temple to one of the great British pastimes.  
  
Ironically, a rainy evening in summer is something of a mixed blessing for a pub owner. Yes, it chases people away from barbecues and other outdoors (and thus un-British) events, but going to a pub would, in itself, require braving the rain. Those who wish to go out are thus tempted to take the car, a device which, in the eyes of a British pub owner, is the creation of Satan itself for its discouragement of drinking.  
  
But Terry Bennett, owner of the White Stag pub, was quite pleased with a spot of rain. His establishment, while one of several in Kittering, nevertheless sat on the main road of a village so small that driving across it would be the height of stupidity. As such he had a comfortable collection of regulars who would see the rain as a reason to abandon their summer barbecues and walk down to the Stag for the evening.  
  
Terry had run his pub for ten years now, and was an accepted part of Kittering’s community. These regulars kept his business afloat and meant he spent his evenings pouring drinks for friends and familiar faces, getting gossip and working in pleasant company. It wasn’t a dodgy area. His pub chain demanded he take a few management courses, and despite his initial disdain, Terry had learnt a thing or two from them - and from other pub owners had heard stories in less savoury places of pool cues needing replacing every week, or slews of broken tables, broken glasses, and broken noses. No, Kittering was a good place, with good people.  
  
Well, mostly.  
  
There was the old woman who lived by herself on the south side of the village. She owned a billion teapots and about as many cats and was called a witch by small children. Then there was the new couple who had moved into the area because they deemed it ‘quaint’. There wasn’t much wrong with them, but the people of Kittering objected to being described like a Christmas card painting. And then there was the unmarried man who spent half his time at home, and the other half away from town on Mysterious Business. _And_ he had a son.  
  
Well, actually, he didn’t. The rumour-mill ran wild on why someone as eccentric as William Rayner had adopted the equally odd boy Caldwyn Brynmor - or something similarly excessively Welsh - and just what had happened to the boy’s parents in the first place. Nothing ever came of it. The general consensus was that Rayner was merely the boy’s deeply unsuitable godfather, and had thus found himself with the offspring of now-deceased friends thrust upon him.  
  
As a pub landlord, Terry was not inclined to turn away anyone who would enjoy a drink, and had no ill-feelings towards guardian and charge. Rayner spent most of his time away on whatever his business was, and Brynmor went to some boarding school, the two of them only seen in the holidays. And this summer holiday Brynmor had brought a bunch of friends with him, the whole lot of them proving fond of the White Stag. They were just as weird as the rest, but they drank enough for Terry to not care.  
  
Besides, from what he’d overheard of a conversation an earlier evening, tonight was their last day in Kittering before they left on a hiking trip. Rayner would likely flit off to whatever work demanded his attention, and all would go back to normal.  
  
But they weren’t here yet. It was only seven o’ clock, and only the most dedicated regulars had got here through the rain. This was the quiet time, after the rush of pub dinners and before the bigger rush of evening drinking. Terry it; he had the chance to look everything over, check the glasses were cleaned, ensure the bottles were filled and the casks full, and settle himself in readiness for a busy evening. He was proud of the White Stag. The establishment was a century old, and though he’d done his best to keep it in good nick, he’d preserved as much of the old charm as possible; the polished wooden panelling, the old (fake) hunting trophies on the walls, a few relics of the Edwardian period decorating the place. It was a typical British pub. But it was _his_ British pub, and he was lucky for it to not be destroyed week after week.  
  
The door laughed open at last to allow in the young Caldwyn Brynmor and his friends, as prompt in their arrival as ever. Instead of taking their usual table in the corner, the three of them headed to pull up stools at the bar.  
  
‘Evening, Mister Brynmor.’ Terry picked up a pint glass to polish, sure he’d need it. ‘Glad you could stop by before your holiday. Is it still just the three of you?’  
  
‘Doyle’s not coming,’ said one of Brynmor’s friends, a slender girl of average height, choppy dark hair, and severe features one would describe as striking, but struggle to call pretty. She sounded dismissive and disinterested, but in Terry’s experience, she always did. ‘Maybe at Christmas.’  
  
‘I doubt it,’ said the final member. He was the tallest of them, with fastidiously neat blond hair at the top of his lofty, wiry frame, piercing blue eyes peering from behind his glasses.  
  
‘He keeps promising since last year,’ the more solidly built Cal Brynmor grunted, running a hand through his bristly dark hair. ‘I’m not holding my breath.’  
  
Terry nodded, like a landlord was supposed to - as if he really cared. Idle curiosity alone didn’t take him too far. ‘Drinks?’ he prompted instead. He knew the trio were only seventeen, and they knew he knew, but this was a country pub. They drank, they behaved, and better here than out on the streets. And, truth be told, you didn’t challenge the odd people in Kittering.  
  
‘I’ll have a Guinness,’ said Cal, still lost in frowning ruminations on his friend’s absence.  
  
‘Right you are. Mister Grey, Miss Cole?’  
  
Tobias Grey and Tanith Cole - what _was_ it with these people, they all had dodgy names - glanced at each other before the tall boy gestured to her to order first. ‘Vodka and orange,’ she said, enunciating it a little too clearly, like she thought he was simple.  
  
‘Cider,’ said Tobias.  
  
Terry sighed. ‘We have several ciders -’  
  
‘Which is the local one?’  
  
‘I don’t _stock_ Derbyshire cider.’ This one was trouble. He insisted on sampling anything and everything, and always had a slew of questions. Terry normally liked people who took an interest in their drink, but anyone who thought Derbyshire cider might be worth drinking obviously wasn’t paying attention in the first place. ‘We have the usual brands and then there’s a Herefordshire press -’  
  
‘Oh, Herefordshire. I’ll try that.’ Tobias’ eyes brightened like he was in for an illuminating experience. Terry thought he was in for a cider.  
  
Cal had the good grace to give Terry an apologetic look, then turned to his friends as the landlord set about pouring pints and glasses. ‘It’s just cider. You’ll drink it. You’ll like it.’  
  
‘I don’t see the point in being here and not sampling what I can,’ said Tobias huffily.  
  
‘Do what Cal and I do, Grey,’ drawled Tanith. ‘Find what you like. Drink it. In Cal’s case, usually to excess.’  
  
‘You make it sound like _I_ _’m_ the one who needs helping home in the evenings,’ said Cal, indignant. ‘I’ve got the stamina of an ox. Body of an athlete, after all.’  
  
Tanith pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Oh, no, I’ve got him started on sports.’  
  
‘Ah, yes.’ Tobias turned to Cal. ‘Montague’s _still_ addled after the closet incident. Why do I get the feeling you’ll be trying to weasel your way back onto the team? You haven’t played in _years_.’  
  
‘I’m betting that Montague, in his new and enlightened state of mind, will set aside all prejudice and kick off one of those brain-dead goons he calls Beaters.’ Cal waved a lofty hand. ‘I can take either of them on my worst day and their best. We’re going to kick Gryffindor’s _arse_ this year.’  
  
‘What’s this?’ Terry asked cheerfully, putting Cal’s pint down to settle. ‘School rugby?’  
  
For some reason, the three looked amused as their drinks were handed over. ‘Something like that,’ said Tanith with an arched eyebrow.  
  
‘The last two team captains didn’t like me, even though I can out-play either of them.’ Cal remained full of fervour. ‘The latest one won’t keep the job, so if all goes well, I’ll be back on the house team. That’ll show the ponces.’  
  
Terry looked at the glass he was polishing. The three went to some fancy boarding school, and as a product of a local comprehensive, the landlord wasn’t sure Cal should throw the word ‘ponces’ around. He was never one for rugby himself, much preferring football, and wondered if he shouldn’t have left them to their conversation. But he was still a pub landlord, and so it always paid to keep one ear open as he sorted out the bar and served others.  
  
‘Times _are_ changing,’ Tobias said when Terry tuned back in. ‘Big things are coming, for good or ill. I just find it typical that _you_ decide to land that on the pitch instead of the wider world.’  
  
Cal shrugged. ‘I’m a simple man of simple tastes.’  
  
‘Still,’ said Tanith, ‘in a few weeks we’ll be leaving for the start of the _last_ year. Doesn’t _that_ worry either of you?’  
  
Tobias grimaced. ‘A little.’  
  
Cal threw an arm around both their shoulders, big and burly enough to manage whether they liked it or not. ‘Oh, lighten up. Whatever happens, we’ve had a great six years. We’ll do _fine_ , whatever the future holds. Besides, there’s still one year left.’  
  
Tanith rolled her eyes and reached for her drink. ‘Six long years with you two, and you threaten me with a whole future?’  
  
‘It’s not just us.’ Tobias grinned despite her arch words. ‘There’s Doyle, too.’  
  
‘When he’s here.’  
  
‘He’s here when we need him,’ said Cal stubbornly. ‘Just never here when we need him to buy a round.’  
  
They laughed, and left as one for their usual corner table, speaking of a school with a strange name and strange words for things. Talking of a past soon leaving them behind, and a future looming ahead of them, full of the nostalgia of short, youthful years, and the anticipation of endless opportunities.  
  
Terry watched them go with mixed feelings, before he was back to cleaning dirty glasses and filling pints for those regulars whose orders he could anticipate without reminder. He couldn’t say why, but he was glad they’d left the bar, gone to a table. When he thought about it, only the most determined of his customers came to order drinks when they sat there. And when he talked about it, none of them could explain why.  
  
They were just weird folks, Terry reasoned. The world had lots of them. And they, and their world, were not in the slightest his problem.


	2. September 1st, 1994 – Fifth Year

Altair Ritter, handyman and bodyguard for Daedalus Cole and tutor to both of his daughters, had never felt so uncertain the day before a Hogwarts departure. He wasn’t sure what had changed – there was no tangible threat like the year before; one of his charges had left school, and his faith in Hogwarts’ security was intact. But he could not shake his discontent at seeing Tanith leave.  
  
He knocked on the bedroom door. The clunking from inside echoed; either she was packing, or was in a foul enough mood to destroy her possessions. Both were possible, even at once. But when he didn’t receive a torrent of teenaged abuse, he ducked inside.  
  
The Cole mansion was an old, draughty house which had seen too many centuries and too many demands of stern nobility to be cosy or comfortable. It was a house which looked impressive, spoke of generations of breeding and sophistication, but was not easily called home. Tanith hadn’t attempted to. Most girls her age would have walls covered with posters of the Weird Sisters, or Puddlemere United Quidditch players, or some other adolescent fascination. They wouldn’t have portraits of respected ancestors glaring down at the four-poster bed. But Tanith did. It was how the room had been at her birth, and hadn’t changed since.  
  
The only personalisation was the rubbish and belongings strewn across the Persian rug, the room ripped apart as a prelude to packing. Tanith tore about the room, collecting what she fancied and tossing it into the large trunk in the corner. Ritter sighed, knowing _he_ _’d_ have to carry it to King’s Cross. Without charms.  
  
‘Did someone drop a bomb while you were away, or do you always live like this?’ He folded his arms across his chest as he watched her rampage. This, at least, was the same as it had been last year, and the year before. His protégé always prepared for school at the last minute, and he remembered her indignation when she’d had to pack by herself, for herself before her first year.  
  
Tanith threw him a glower tempered by a respect he fancied nobody else could elicit. He knew it well. ‘Not everyone is as obsessively neat as you, Altair,’ she said. Her voice calmed once she realised she couldn’t lash out, the glower simmering to an arch look. Pride rose in him; she hadn’t yet learnt a glare of ice was more effective than ranting and raving, but she was on her way. ‘At least I can unpack with just a wand-wave once I’m there.’ She said this as if putting away books, knick-knacks, and clothing was the most strenuous thing on Earth.  
  
‘I’ll be glad if you don’t bother. Using magic for even the most simple of chores leads to over-reliance, the downfall of many a wizard.’  
  
She was only half-paying attention, trying to stuff a set of robes into a small corner of the trunk regardless of how badly creased they would be later. ‘I bet even you wouldn’t say no to doing some things instantly.’  
  
He kept his expression blank, knowing the stab of her words was not intentional. ‘I would jump at the opportunity.’ She hesitated at that, not looking up from the trunk, and he reached into his robes to pull something out. ‘You left your sketchbook in the garden. Don’t worry. They didn’t see it. My time’s better spent than listening to your father rant about wanting you to spend your time on something more worthwhile than art. Which I happen to think is very worthwhile.’  
  
Tanith took the sketchbook, pink-cheeked, and slipped it into her trunk under a pile of Transfiguration textbooks. ‘One of many conversations for another time. At least this one isn’t a career wish.’  
  
‘It could be, if you practiced,’ said Ritter. ‘You’ve got some talent. And I should know; I studied subjects _other_ than Charms and Potions.’  
  
‘ _I_ would rather do something more worthwhile. And Dad still won’t approve.’ She finally met his gaze, and concern shone in her dark eyes. ‘I suppose you’ll be back to work now summer’s over.’  
  
‘Your father’s expecting rumblings in business with what happened at the World Cup. I’ll keep my ear to the ground, don’t you worry.’  
  
‘I do worry. I know he never _did_ anything with Death Eaters, but if they get angry at him about that… you _will_ make sure he and Mum are safe, right?’  
  
Ritter gave her as reassuring a smile as he could muster. It was a childish hope of hers that he, a Squib, could protect this house against angry dark wizards. He had taught Tanith since she was young, been the untouchable, immortal adult that her parents had never been. And he was not quite as defenceless as most would think. ‘We know what we’re doing, your father and I. Though I expect to be away a lot.’  
  
‘Will you be back at Christmas?’  
  
‘It’ll make no difference to you.’  
  
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Why not?’  
  
He cast his gaze around the room, finally looking to the wardrobe. ‘Make sure you don’t forget your dress robes. Your mother spent good money on them.’  
  
Tanith watched him for a moment. As she’d got older, she’d got better at knowing when he was hiding things. So he turned it into a game, hiding _more_ things so she was distracted by the mundane misdirection, instead of the lies that were for her benefit. ‘I know,’ she said at last, and he knew she was acting innocent even if she’d made the link. ‘Dad went on about it for weeks. Merlin knows why she bothered; Hogwarts isn’t exactly _that_ formal.’  
  
‘They may come in handy.’ His smile was a secret reassurance that she was right to be suspicious. Laying out clues to his evasion was no use if he didn’t reward her for success. Though this one, she would have to figure out for herself.  
  
Tanith’s elder sister, Evadne, had been a reluctant student. Altair Ritter was a Squib, and so she hadn’t understood what he could teach her of value. She had indulged his basic lessons - reading, writing, arithmetic, the subjects neglected at Hogwarts - but they had never progressed beyond that. Tanith had been different. She’d been raised with the same prejudices against Muggles, but he’d managed to find a sliver of open-mindedness in her. When she’d listened to his basic lessons, he’d elaborated. The essentials had turned into a classical education, art, literature, history, and along the way Ritter had been keen to shape her personal skills so she could cope with what the world threw at her - _without_ relying on magic. It was why he revelled in these games of evasion. He had survived in the wizarding world his whole life without magic, and he would be damned if an attentive student of his couldn’t do so, too.  
  
‘You spent the summer fruitfully, aside from the World Cup? Lots of studying?’ He knew full well the real answer.  
  
‘You could say that.’ Tanith was hunting for errant belongings under her bed, and emerged with a Remembrall, glowing a furious red, and a small model of Kirley Duke of the Weird Sisters, who glared at Ritter. ‘It’s going to get messy at school with OWLs. Teachers breathing down our necks, ticking deadlines, stressed students, and Tobias Grey will be the most frantic fool anyone ever met.’  
  
Ritter’s mouth twisted into a smirk as he remembered the studious boy he’d met on occasion at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. ‘I’m sure you’ll find some way to stay entertained.’  
  
‘Baiting a frantic Tobias Grey sounds entertaining.’ She slammed the trunk lid down, and had to sit on it to shut it.  
  
Ritter crossed to the bookshelf and plucked a dusty tome. ‘You forgot this Astronomy textbook.’  
  
Tanith made a face. ‘I don’t need it.’  
  
‘You’ll need a good OWL in Astronomy if you’re going to take a NEWT in it.’ Their eyes met for a moment, silent until he put the book down. When he spoke, his voice was gentler. ‘Make sure you’re honest in that careers talk this year. And don’t worry. Rumour has it you’ve got someone _good_ to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts.’  
  
She paused. ‘You won’t tell Dad?’  
  
‘If I reported on you to your father, you’d have heard his explosions by now.’  
  
Tanith sighed and looked to the tall bedroom windows which granted a glorious view of the grounds of the Cole estate under the cool light of morning. In the fields beyond the extensive garden lay the stables, and beyond them the Aethonan winged horses her father bred, frolicking freely behind a wall of Muggle-deflection charms. ‘It’d be a reaction.’  
  
‘Don’t make your choices to please him, _or_ to get a reaction,’ Ritter reminded her, voice low. ‘But I promise you. You’ll be too busy this year to even think about that.’  
  
‘Too busy,’ she echoed, and glanced back at him. ‘With OWLs. And a need for dress robes.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘You’re not as subtle as you think you are, old man.’  
  
_Actually_ , he thought as he went to help her with her trunk, _I_ _’m exactly as subtle as I need to be. Better for you to worry about the mystery of the Triwizard Tournament than fussing about the World Cup, or the fact that I owe your father a report on how the Ministry handled it._ But those were problems for later. For now he had to make sure his pupil left safely, as he knew, despite his anxiety, that Hogwarts was safer than anywhere else in Britain was threatening to be.

 

 

§

  
  
‘Where the hell is he?’ Tobias’ gaze swept the platform as he shifted from foot to foot. ‘It’s five to eleven. I know he likes to make dramatic arrivals but this is really taking -’  
  
‘He’ll be here.’ Tanith swatted him on the arm. ‘Doyle may be a prat, but he won’t expect the Express to wait for him. It’s probably just another row with his father.’  
  
‘But even his father wouldn’t stop him from getting here on time,’ Cal pointed out. ‘He’d just argue with him all the way. Probably run alongside the train to get the last word in.’ His arms were folded across his chest, dark eyes fixed on the entrance, unmoving as a vigilant statue as they waited. ‘But we better get on board. Or the train’s going to leave without _us_ , too.’  
  
Tobias kicked the ground. ‘He’s right. Snape would have our guts for garters if he had to arrange us a Portkey.’  
  
‘Maybe yours. _You_ _’re_ the new prefects.’ Cal smirked. ‘So you should get to the carriage; I’ll grab us a compartment. Gabe will show, just you see. He’s always got to make a fuss about his arrival. All eyes on him.’  
  
Tanith nodded, and tugged Tobias’ sleeve when he didn’t move. ‘Come on. We don’t want to give the idiots more reasons to give new Slytherin prefects hell.’ The train whistled, and her eyes widened. ‘And I’d rather _not_ throw myself onto a moving train, if it’s all the same to you!’  
  
Tobias did move at that, grabbing the handle of his heavy trunk and the small cage in which crouched Tiberius, his grey tabby. Tibs mewed and yowled, as if urging them to hurry. Cal went for the nearest door, and the two of them moved as close to the front of the train as they could before Tanith lunged on board.  
  
‘Get my trunk, will you?’  
  
Tobias grunted as he wrestled up two trunks and a rowdy cat’s cage, the doors swinging shut behind him only scant seconds after he’d collapsed against the wall from the mad dash and dead-lifting all of Tanith’s heavy and terrible packing. She took the handle of the trunk with only an acknowledging nod, as if it was his duty to wait on her hand and foot.  
  
‘Come on,’ she said, and trundled down the aisle towards the prefects’ carriage, giving him no chance to do anything but grumble in her wake.  
  
By sheer bad luck this carriage was occupied by what looked like every Gryffindor in the school, and definitely their year. He’d kept away from inter-house scraps for months, but Gabriel Doyle was always ready to make a snide comment at a Gryffindor, and Cal would back him up, make his jabs when he could, and never leave an insult unanswered. This got Tobias recognised, and while some ignored him, he still had to grit his teeth and watch his balance as sixth-year feet were pushed out to try to trip up a well-known Slytherin. Especially a well-known Slytherin _prefect_.  
  
Tanith, of course, was untouched. She’d infamously hexed Nick Wilson into a babbling mess of boils and pus a year ago, which discouraged most. The worst she received was the sharp tongue of a few of the girls, but she gave as good as she got.  
  
Halfway along, Tobias let Tibs out of his cage so he didn’t have to worry about bashing the cat about. Tibs’ grateful reaction was to lunge onto his shoulder and hiss at anyone making a hostile move at his master, which made progress easier but also got his collar-bone perforated. It was a relief to make it to the prefect’s carriage.  
  
‘You need to learn to scare the hell out of them better,’ said Tanith, not without sympathy, as she steered him into the nearest empty compartment.  
  
‘Easier said than done,’ he muttered. She was stressed from their tardiness, he knew, and despite her air of indifference, didn’t want to get off to a bad start as a prefect. He hefted her trunk into the luggage rack for her.  
  
‘Do you know who the other prefects are?’ she asked once they were sat, tension finally flowing from them as the buildings of London raced by the windows, faster and faster.  
  
‘It’s Everard and Riley for Gryffindor,’ he reeled off without having to check. ‘Ravenclaw is Sharpe and Chang. Hufflepuff is O’Neal and… Grahams.’ Tibs apologetically curled up in his lap once he was sat down, purring in satisfaction at a job well done, and he scratched behind the cat’s ear.  
  
She tilted her head. ‘Could be a lot worse. Especially for the Gryffindors. I was afraid McGonagall would lose her wits and give it to McLaggen. But Riley’s so bloody uptight. Still, this might not be as hellish a job as I’d thought.’  
  
‘I thought you were over the moon about getting to rule supreme, now you’ve been granted your rightful authority over everyone else?’ He smirked.  
  
Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘You know it won’t be easy. A badge on a Slytherin is a target for everyone else to aim for.’  
  
Tobias gave a one-shouldered shrug, his gaze going to the window. ‘You think Gabriel’s showed up, or you reckon Cal’s stuck with Bletchley and the others right now?’  
  
‘He’ll be fine. I mean both of them, but Cal’s the amiable one. They can talk Quidditch.’  
  
‘Yeah. With Cal trying to ingratiate himself with Montague so he’s let back on the team. _If_ Montague makes Captain. It might be Warrington. But neither will let him on, they’re too under Malfoy’s thumb. Even if a Beater spot _should_ be his with Derrick and Bole gone. It won’t work.’  
  
A head popped through the doorway, and they looked up to see the round, inquisitive face of Tom Everard. ‘Oh, good, it’s you two. I was afraid Snape would appoint Montague and Larkin, just to make our lives miserable.’  
  
Tanith snorted. ‘Melanie Larkin would only do the job if she was fed a steady diet of one First Year a day to torment.’  
  
‘And I’m just glad it’s not Wilson or McLaggen with your badge,’ Tobias said.  
  
‘Well, no. I’m _better_ than them.’ Everard glanced over his shoulder at the opposite compartment, when Jen Riley of Gryffindor sat with Connor O’Neal and Lisa Grahams. They didn’t seem to have heard him, so he leaned in conspiratorially. ‘Don’t tell Jen I said that. She and Wilson are a thing now.’  
  
‘ _Really_?’ Tobias said. ‘Riley? And Wilson? But she’s so… and he’s so…’  
  
‘She’s uptight and he’s a loser, so apparently Riley likes a bit of rough trade.’ Tanith pulled out her copy of the _Daily Prophet_ , affecting disinterest. Tobias knew she was, in truth, tucking this nugget of information away for safe-keeping. ‘At least now I know that if I mess with Wilson I’ll get a two-for-one on trouble, because he’ll go running to his girlfriend and she won’t resist the urge to stick her nose in.’  
  
Everard wore the awkward expression of someone who didn’t strictly disagree, but whose loyalties demanded he did. Tobias wasn’t surprised. The boy had hero-worshipped the swaggering Nick Wilson for years, and he suspected he’d harboured at least a small crush on Jen Riley, so adoring worlds colliding couldn’t be fun. In the end, Everard shrugged. ‘Just a head’s up, anyway,’ he said, and beat a diplomatic withdrawal.  
  
‘Well,’ said Tanith when he shut the door behind him. ‘Now I know two things. That Riley has terrible taste, and that there are arrogant prats in every house. Seems like Everard’s your counterpart, Grey.’  
  
Tobias ignored the jibe, watching her. ‘What did you call Wilson? “Rough trade”?’  
  
‘Yeah, you know. Messy and roguish.’  
  
He ran a hand through his fastidious hair, and had to tidy it again after. ‘Girls like that?’  
  
‘Apparently Riley does. I never credited Riley with good judgement.’ Tanith then gave him a beady look. ‘You’re not _jealous_ -’  
  
‘What? No! I don’t mind Riley. But I don’t -’ He lifted his hands for so frantic a denial that he disturbed Tibs. ‘No. Not her.’  
  
‘Hm. Well. You should get yourself a girl, Grey. Might help you relax.’  
  
‘You and Bletchley, as a pairing, was _nothing_ resembling relaxing,’ he pointed out.  
  
She made a face. ‘It doesn’t count. It wasn’t a proper anything. I have better standards these days.’  
  
Tobias didn’t look at her as he soothed Tiberius back into a purring ball in his lap. ‘Like?’  
  
But there was another interruption at the door, this one of the new Head Boy - a Ravenclaw named Bridges - who clutched a whole stack of planning papers and schedules and bubbling enthusiasm for paperwork. Tanith groaned as he went over schedules and responsibilities, and Tobias listened intently and took the papers and added his own notes, and by the time they emerged from the bubbling vortex of fussing, the subject was long, long gone.

 

§

  
  
Cal leaned in the open compartment doorway. ‘We’re coming up on Hogsmeade, guys.’  
  
Adrian Pucey and Edmund Montague were still struggling into their robes. If one sliced some meat off Montague and slapped it on Pucey’s gangly form, there was a chance of getting two normal-sized fifteen year-olds; as it was, Montague’s robes strained at the shoulders and Pucey’s hung off him like a ghost’s shroud. Cal wasn’t the smallest fellow himself, but he would think twice before squaring off against Montague.  
  
The Sorting Hat sometimes thought Slytherin was the house of brutes.  
  
‘Bugger, this is going to need stitching,’ swore Montague as a seam finally burst in objection.  
  
‘You need new robes,’ Cal said. Tobias and Tanith were off for their last prefects’ patrol before the train came in, so he’d got changed and gone to check in with the rest of his housemates. Bletchley was off flirting with the Slytherin girls, apparently his new mission in life, which left him with these two if he didn’t want to brave the dangerous world of female company. Most of them were of an age where they giggled a lot in his presence. It rattled him. At least he knew what Tanith was _thinking_ when she laughed at him, however unkind it might be.  
  
‘Too late,’ said Montague, and moved for the door. ‘Shift over, Brynmor, I’m going to see if Mel can do anything about this.’ Melanie Larkin probably did know how to do a charm to fix the robe. Whether she _would_ was another question, and Cal privately observed how Montague didn’t ask him, even though Cal knew full well how to stitch up a rip. His foster father was not so flush with money that the slightest tear meant clothes got thrown out.  
  
But Cal stepped to one side without a word, and Montague moved into the corridor - just in time for a figure to come streaking down the train to crash right into him. They both staggered, Cal reached out to steady Montague, but the much smaller boy who’d thudded into him bounced into the wall.  
  
‘Oi!’ Montague ripped himself free of Cal’s grip within a heartbeat, expression twisting with indignation.  
  
Richard Keating, Gryffindor in their year and a stringy young fellow Cal recognised as one of the eggheads sometimes civil to Tobias, steadied himself. His robes hung half-off him, his hair was wild, but he looked like he knew to regret this clumsiness. ‘Sorry,’ he blurted. ‘I was just -’  
  
‘Running around like a bloody idiot.’ Montague hauled Keating up with one meaty hand. ‘Watch where you’re going. I’ve already got a rip on these robes, I don’t need _mud_ on them either.’  
  
Cal’s breath caught. Behind him, Pucey watched with an uninterested air, but they were by the compartment door where Bletchley, Larkin, and Ariane Drake sat, the rest of their year of Slytherins. They’d all heard Montague, and though Muggle-born Keating had turned a sudden shade of pink through anger and fear, none of them batted an eyelid at the exchange.  
  
_Montague_ _’s a shoo-in for Quidditch captain_ , came the blazing reminder, and Cal’s mouth clamped shut.  
  
‘ _Hey_! Montague!’ That was a new voice, and for a heartbeat Cal worried it was Keating’s Gryffindor friends, here to escalate the situation. He wasn’t much reassured to see Tobias storming down the corridor towards them, Tanith in his wake, his expression a tense mask. ‘I heard that!’  
  
Montague was bright enough to know now was the time to let go of Keating. But there was nothing contrite in his expression as he turned on the two prefects. ‘What? I’m just saying I don’t want to get my robes dirty.’  
  
Cal watched as Tobias and Keating eyeballed each other for a silent heartbeat, a wordless assessment and confirmation of the situation, before Tobias’ gaze snapped back to Montague. ‘And how, exactly, were your robes in danger of getting _dirty_ while we’re all still on the train?’  
  
Montague didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘It was raining in London. A bit.’  
  
Tobias’ arms were folded across his chest, Montague was unwavering, and it was Tanith who broke the tension by looking between them and saying, ‘Beat it, Keating.’ Cal knew the tale would be told that Tanith Cole was the prefect who didn’t care what had happened. From where he stood, she was the prefect diffusing the explosive situation.  
  
‘Did I do something wrong, Prefect Grey?’ Montague carried on after Keating did an impressive vanishing trick. ‘I’d hate to upset you on your first day on the job.’  
  
‘I’m not an idiot, Montague. And you’re not subtle.’  
  
‘I just care about my general _hygiene_ , Grey. Like all good Slytherins should.’  
  
‘Hey, Ed, it’s day one,’ said Tanith, stepping between them. ‘It’s a little early for pushing it. I don’t mean with us, but what if it had been Riley here, huh? Or O’Neal?’  
  
Montague looked like he couldn’t give less of a damn what Jen Riley or Connor O’Neal, the pair of them insufferable do-gooders in Cal’s eyes, might have thought of him throwing slurs at Richard Keating. Then the floor jerked beneath them, and Cal stepped up to plant his hands on the shoulders of Montague and Tobias. ‘Looks like we’re coming up on Hogsmeade. Guess we better move along!’  
  
Montague didn’t budge, flinty gaze still locked on Tobias, but Tanith grabbed Tobias’ other arm and tugged. ‘Yeah!’ she said. ‘We want to get a good… er… carriage.’  
  
Tobias was tall and stubborn and Tanith wouldn’t move him on her own, but between her and Cal they could frog-march him down the corridor and away from the defiant eyes of their Slytherin housemates. Cal saw a muscle working in the corner of Tobias’ jaw as they went, but they’d made it to the train door, waiting for it to come to a full halt so they could disembark, before he spoke. ‘What do you think you were doing?’  
  
Cal braced himself for the criticism - then winced as he saw Tobias had rounded on Tanith, not him, and he squinted in confusion.  
  
Tanith didn’t bat an eyelid any more than Montague had, chin tilting up an inch. ‘Getting Keating out of there before we got into a pitched battle in the middle of the train. Stopped Montague from thinking you were jumping down his throat on _day one_.’  
  
‘He said -’  
  
‘I know what he said.’ Tanith’s voice was flat. ‘You want to be _able_ to be a prefect, Grey? Don’t make an enemy of our entire House on the very first day. Pick your battles.’  
  
‘Picking my battles and letting things slide because it’s _judicious_ ,’ said Tobias, jaw still tight, ‘is exactly how behaviour like his gets tolerated. I like Keating. He’s a good sort. He’s also ten times the wizard Montague is, and I don’t care if he’s -’  
  
‘Stop preaching to the converted, Grey, you _know_ I’m with you on this. But if we stand firm and tell Montague to sod off and give him detentions and dock House points, we’re going to get _no_ further than Riley and O’Neal and the others do. We’ll get less far, because we’ll be ten times more open to retaliation.’  
  
Cal frowned out the foggy window of the train door, the rain lashing against the glass, as the sight of Hogsmeade station slowed to a halt on the other side. He remained silent throughout the exchange, heart thudding with a mixture of relief at not being called on and guilt at getting away with it. He hadn’t challenged Montague like Tobias did, he didn’t handle and diffuse the situation like Tanith. He’d kept his trap shut, because Montague would never make him a Beater if he pissed him off.  
  
‘It could be worse,’ he said, because even if he couldn’t handle Montague, he could handle two of his best friends, and distract himself from guilt. The train door swung open with a gust of wind and rain, a torrential downpour lashing on the platform, the train, already in their faces. ‘We could have to go out in that. Oh, _wait_.’  
  
The rain washed away their tensions, or at least replaced them with a whole new set. Tobias glowered and hissed, ‘Bugger,’ before they all hopped onto the platform and hot-footed it with the gathering masses of Hogwarts students for where the carriages sat to take them rattling along the path to school.  
  
‘I’d hate to be the First Years, crossing the lake in this weather,’ said Cal as he hopped into the nearest carriage, extending hands to help haul his friends up after him.  
  
‘It’s about as bad as it was for us,’ said Tanith, wiping rainwater from her face and sinking onto the bench.  
  
Cal sniggered and elbowed Tobias in the ribs. ‘The wind howling, spray in our faces, Gabriel acting all dignified like there was nothing to it, you panicking as if death was on the horizon…’  
  
‘Death wasn’t on the horizon, death was in our faces, and you were whooping like a crazed loon,’ said Tobias haughtily. ‘And now I will take morbid pleasure in a new batch of children having to suffer as we suffered. It builds character.’  
  
‘Still no sign of Doyle?’ said Tanith.  
  
Cal shook his head. ‘Not a sausage. If he wanted a late arrival, this has entered the realms of melodrama. Nobody likes a ham actor, and this just takes the cake.’  
  
She glared. ‘You’re making me hungry. Thank God Dumbledore lets us eat before the big speeches. But we still have to sit through the Sorting. They should do it on the boats.’  
  
‘Yeah, great idea in this weather,’ Tobias said. ‘Howling wind to deafen everyone, people throwing up over the side, and the giant squid to sing along in harmony with the Sorting Hat.’ They chuckled. ‘We’ll have to induct the Slytherin fresh blood. Stop them from becoming as gigantic arses as Montague, Warrington, Malfoy.’  
  
The topic was always going to come full circle, Cal realised with a sigh. ‘Sure,’ he said, and tried to keep his voice light. ‘Snape can set the fine example on how to be a shiny, happy, decent human being.’  
  
Tobias waved a hand. ‘I know, I know. You two think I’m naive. I just want to avoid us all being labelled evil incarnate. I don’t need us to be the paragons of virtue and justice, fighting evil for goodness, honour, and small fluffy puppies. It sounds like a crappy deal. Only the good die young.’  
  
‘Which is why we should tolerate the Gryffindors.’ Tanith winked at Cal. ‘McLaggen and Wilson will snuff it before they’re twenty.’  
  
‘For _once_ ,’ said Tobias, carrying on like she hadn’t spoken, ‘I’d like to have a Quidditch season where the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws weren’t all supporting Gryffindor because they’d rather see _anyone_ win but us. I’d like to not get tripped on the train just because I’m a Slytherin, and a Slytherin _prefect_. I’d like -’  
  
‘A million galleons!’ Cal tried to grin to take the sting out of his words, but he couldn’t deny he wanted to take the wind out of Tobias’ sails. It was for his own good. But it was enough to make Tobias subside into a sulky silence, and he exchanged a concerned glance with Tanith, worrying he’d gone too far.  
  
He didn’t have long to reflect, as soon enough the carriage swept to a halt in front of the stairs leading up to the main doors. Rain lashed down at the carriage, thudded against the courtyard paving, turned the steps into a slippery, dangerous fountain, but there was no other way to dryness and safety. Cal pushed the door open. ‘Ugh. On the count of three, we dash?’ They wrinkled their noses, but nodded, and he drew a deep breath. ‘One.’  
  
Tanith elbowed Tobias out of the way as she bolted, lunging out the door and dashing up the stairs, not just ahead of _them_ , but of the main crowd of students, most of whom were just as apprehensive to head out into the rain.  
  
‘Cheat.’ Cal rolled his eyes. ‘Two, thr-’  
  
Tobias grabbed the back of his collar to yank him out the way before he made his own break for it. Cal staggered and croaked but followed, thudding after his friend, and the two of them jostled their way up the stairs. The rain poured down, Tobias’ robes were slippery in his grip, but they fell into the entrance hall together, breathless from the effort and the laughter.  
  
Tanith sniffed as she brushed mere droplets of water from her robes. ‘Foolish boys. You haven’t learnt yet to break the rules?’  
  
Tobias grinned. ‘I bent them.’  
  
‘You nearly throttled me,’ Cal said, ‘but at least we -’  
  
_Got out of the rain_ , were the unfinished words before a bright blue balloon dropped, burst on impact, and drenched him through. Peeves cackled manically as he soared overhead, and Cal realised with a dripping feeling that he should have noticed the poltergeist when they got in - he was not the first victim.  
  
‘ _Run_ ,’ said Tanith, and she and Tobias grabbed Cal by the elbows to hurtle for the Great Hall. They couldn’t help but laugh as the group behind them, the Gryffindor girls of their year, exploded into shrieks at the next volley from Peeves, more tightly-packed and greater in number and thus a more tempting target.  
  
The Great Hall, at least, was warm and dry and they were amongst the first to arrive. Cal squelched with every step, and tried to wring water out of his robes as they headed for the Slytherin table. ‘I didn’t think I could get any wetter. Bloody Peeves. And I’m _still_ hungry. You think they’ll hurry up with the Sorting?’  
  
‘It shouldn’t take long,’ said Tanith as she sat down. ‘I mean, the lake, this weather - I bet half of them drowned.’  
  
Soon the Great Hall had filled up, and the room was just beginning to buzz with impatience when the doors were thrown open again, and in stalked Professor McGonagall with a gaggle of First Years at her heels. If Cal was soaked, then the eleven year-olds were inundated.  
  
‘Yeah, yeah, they’re short, they’ve got traits, get on with it,’ Tanith mumbled.  
  
Cal’s stomach growled its agreement. He watched McGonagall get the Sorting Hat, then fixed his eyes on his plate. He didn’t care about this. He was cold, he was wet, he was hungry, and there was still no sign of Gabe. This was not the return to Hogwarts he’d looked forward to. So the Hat’s song drifted by him without much fanfare and certainly with no care, though he did glance up to see Tobias listening with his usual quiet, attentive thoughtfulness. If the Hat had an interesting point, he, Cal, couldn’t find it - but then, Tobias thought History of Magic was interesting. His tastes were odd.  
  
Tanith, next to him, had switched off. This was about the time Gabriel would have made a perfectly apt sarcastic comment, and worry wormed further into Cal’s gut along with the hunger. Missing the train was one thing, but the Express had left hours ago. What had happened that stopped Gabriel even from getting a Portkey arranged in that time?  
  
‘Ackerley, Stewart!’  
  
Cal raised his head, jerked from his reverie, as the first child of the new year became a Ravenclaw. He gave perfunctory applause.  
  
‘Baddock, Malcolm!’  
  
His next clap was much more genuine as Slytherin House won its first new student. Cheers broke out around him, too, but Cal spotted Tobias stiffen. ‘What is it?’  
  
Tobias spoke so quietly they both had to lean in to hear. ‘The Gryffindors.’  
  
‘Pulling faces? Being general gits?’ Tanith sounded calm, but Cal knew she’d spotted Tobias was genuinely disquieted, and would defend him against whatever slight had been offered.  
  
‘Cauldwell, Owen!’  
  
‘Not that. Baddock.’ Tobias glanced down the table where the First Year was being clapped on the back by Nott and Zabini.  
  
‘ _Hufflepuff_!’  
  
Cal applauded more out of Welsh solidarity than caring before his attention snapped back. ‘What about it?’  
  
‘Creevey, Dennis!’  
  
Tobias scowled. ‘They _booed_ him.’  
  
‘ _Gryffindor_!’ The table at the far end exploded into raucous cheering. Cal watched Tobias’ lip curl.  
  
‘They’ll boo all Slytherins,’ pointed out Tanith.  
  
‘It’s just -’ But the Sorting continued, as did the clapping, and Tobias shrugged. ‘I’ll explain in a minute.’ They sat through the rest of the Sorting in silence, save Tobias’ muttering as he glared at the Gryffindor table with every Slytherin Sorted, and Cal’s growling stomach. Finally, as Kevin Whitby became a Hufflepuff, McGonagall removed the Hat and Dumbledore stepped up.  
  
‘He better not talk for long,’ Cal mumbled, ‘or I’ll eat _him_.’  
  
‘I only have two words to say to you.’ Dumbledore’s voice rolled across the Hall in a deep, sonorous echo. ‘ _Tuck in_.’  
  
‘I always liked Dumbledore,’ Cal lied as the dishes before them loaded up with food, and he started by almost upending an entire roast pig onto his plate. ‘Toby, if you want to explain yourself, you’ll have to do it through the sound of my munching.’  
  
‘Like that’s new,’ said Tanith, shovelling mashed potato like there was about to be a shortage. ‘Grey, Gryffindors are _always_ arses to Slytherins.’  
  
‘But booing a First Year, who’s _just_ been Sorted?’ Tobias was only picking at greens, which made Cal really begin to worry. ‘He’s not bullied them for years. He’s not a junior Death Eater in training. I bet he’s not evil incarnate. Five minutes ago, they looked at him the same way they looked at any of those new Gryffindors. And now, he’s scum. Because a Hat decided he was cunning and driven.’  
  
Cal passed him the Yorkshire Pudding. It seemed the best way to help.  
  
‘Don’t go on hunger strike, Grey,’ Tanith agreed. ‘It won’t change their minds.’  
  
Tobias reluctantly tucked in, as of course a hot meal after a cold journey was impossible to resist even through righteous indignation. ‘I know, we Slytherins can take care of ourselves. And Gryffindors end up worse off. It’s just - he’s a kid. I bet some of them sat in the same compartment as him, shared their pumpkin pasties with him. Now he’s a Slytherin, none of those Gryffindors will get chummy, will they.’  
  
‘I don’t know,’ Cal said, trying to kill his roast pork anew by drowning it in gravy, just so it would feel how he, soaked to the bone, felt before it nourished and warmed him. ‘You’re mates with Riley and Everard, aren’t you?’  
  
‘We’re not _friends_. We’re acquaintances. We have civil chats and don’t kill each other when a face-off happens. I keep my wrath for Wilson and McLaggen.’ Tobias managed a smile at last. ‘Besides, Tanith would kill me if I were friends with a Gryffindor.’  
  
‘It’s true. I would summon the death glare and kill you stone dead for your poor judgement.’  
  
But the bulk of Tobias’ righteous anger had faded, much to Cal’s relief. He never knew how to handle it, never cared quite as much as his friend did, and that was fine by him - he didn’t understand, often, how Tobias could get anything _done_ with this cause or that cause. Tanith was the only one who could stop him. So Cal changed the topic to OWLs, because he knew he could get Tobias to ramble, and he would have been surprised that Tanith was, for once, joining in on the study-crazed words if he wasn’t far, far more focused on dinner.  
  
Even when Dumbledore stood again he only half-listened, until the key word was uttered: Quidditch.  
  
Cal swallowed a roast potato whole. ‘What did he say?’ he hissed, trying to replay the words he’d only been half-paying attention to.  
  
_It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year._  
  
And suddenly, all of Cal’s carefully-laid plans to identify the next Quidditch captain and sway them to his cause - namely, reestablishing him as Beater - shattered into a million pieces. ‘He didn’t just - did he just say what I thought he said?’ But the whole Hall was buzzing with discontent. Tanith had to give Cal a sympathetic look confirming he wasn’t going mad, and even Tobias, who indulged rather than cared about Quidditch, looked stunned.  
  
‘This is due to an event that will be starting in October,’ Dumbledore carried on, ‘and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy - but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts –’  
  
Then the door to the Great Hall was thrown open, and Quidditch, food, Gryffindors, and Dumbledore flew from Cal’s attention with the arrival of Mad-Eye Moody.


	3. November 7th, 1992 – Third Year

  
‘But we _lost_ , you idiots!’ Cal Brynmor stood in the middle of the Slytherin Common Room, ranting at Marcus Flint and big and loud and angry enough to provide entertainment for everyone. Most people there were pretending to _not_ watch; after the embarrassing defeat on the Quidditch pitch, they’d rather forget the entire match happened, but for every pair of eyes locked on reading material or their conversation with a friend, there was a pair of ears listening intently.  
  
‘Just once,’ said Flint, arms folded across his broad chest, voice flat. ‘And just because it’s Potter. We can take Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. We have better brooms than them.’  
  
‘And a worse team!’ Cal tossed his hands in the air. ‘The Snitch was _right_ in front of Malfoy’s face, and he missed it. You think _Diggory_ won’t exploit a mistake like that? Or Chang?’  
  
‘Last I checked, Brynmor, you weren’t the team captain. I am. And I’ll make the decisions to get us the Cup. We won last year, didn’t we?’  
  
‘Only because Potter was out of action and so Ravenclaw _clobbered_ Gryffindor. They were ahead until then; if Potter had been flying, they would have crushed them like they did us and Hufflepuff, and you _know_ it.’  
  
‘I don’t linger on “what if”. The truth is, we won.’  
  
‘Yeah. With Terence Higgs, who caught the Snitch two out of three times.’  
  
‘So?’ That was Miles Bletchley, slinking out from behind the captain. ‘He didn’t beat Potter either. The kid’s good. Malfoy didn’t out-fly him; there’s no shame in that. He’ll take Diggory and Chang. And we have the new brooms!’  
  
‘You two are sounding like a broken record player,’ Cal muttered to blank faces. ‘Good brooms don’t make a good team. You _know_ this. Or you should do, or you’re no damn Quidditch players at all. Flint, you, Pucey, and Montague were out-flown today by a trio of girls on _Cleansweeps_. You only scored because you were faster; every move of theirs was better planned and better executed. We were beaten by a better _team_ , and good brooms won’t save us.’  
  
‘You fancy yourself as Captain, Brynmor?’ Flint’s sloped brow quirked. ‘You sound like it.’s  
  
‘I’m trying to get a suggestion through your thick skull.’ He’d stepped over the line, but he didn’t care. Nothing else was working. ‘We have a Seeker who bought his way onto the team, and we’re all _okay_ with this? He screwed up today, and the House is _happy_ with it?’ Cal turned, lifting a hand to the gathered masses, hoping against hope someone would speak up on his side.  
  
Silence met him. He could see bright eyes that agreed but didn’t dare voice it. Even Tanith and Tobias, not normally bowing to public expectations, exchanged glances and stayed quiet. He knew that look. _It_ _’s not worth it. Pick your battles._  
  
‘Perhaps you’re jealous you couldn’t contribute to the team as I can, Brynmor?’ Draco Malfoy had been sprawled on an armchair through the entire row, letting Flint defend him. He looked lazy and smug, and Cal wanted to punch him.  
  
‘Malfoy, Potter was being chased by a broken Bludger trying to _kill_ him. He broke his arm. He hit the ground and had the bones _removed_.’ Cal ignored the flow of tittering that roamed the crowd - he wouldn’t laugh at another player’s injuries, not even a Gryffindor’s. ‘And he _still_ out-flew you and beat you to the Snitch.’  
  
Malfoy finally rose. ‘I didn’t see you winning the game single-handedly, Brynmor.’  
  
‘ _My_ job is to harass the Chasers and stop them from scoring or defending. I did that. We were well ahead in the scoring, and Falco and I did fine.’ Cal jerked a thumb at his Beating partner. Falco was a big seventh year - he’d lifted the Cup time after time, was focusing on his NEWTs this year, and while he raised his bottle of Butterbeer in a supportive manner, didn’t speak up. Cal knew he’d had his time in the sun in Quidditch, and this fight was not worth it.  
  
‘But you, Malfoy,’ Cal continued, ‘failed to get the Snitch. You didn’t even challenge Potter. Potter, with a broken arm, out-flew you. I didn’t see you in any try-outs. This is the same team as last year, the team which won the Cup. I don’t see us beating Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw like this. And what’s changed? We lost Higgs. We gained _you_. Every single member of this team has fought for their place, in try-outs and in doing their best in every single match. Except you.’ He gave Flint a bitter look. ‘Yet he remains.’  
  
‘Extenuating circumstances,’ said Flint, to Cal’s astonishment. Not at the sentiment, but at a word like ‘extenuating’. ‘I like my Nimbus Two Thousand-and-One.’  
  
‘At least you’re _honest_ in being bought,’ Cal sneered. ‘I _demand_ you run a try-out for Seeker. Malfoy can give it a go, but so can Finchley, Hawke. And we decide it on talent. And if you, Malfoy, really care about the team’s performance, you’ll let us keep the brooms if you’re on the team or not.’  
  
Flint shook his head. ‘You’re not the captain; I am. By Professor Snape’s decree. You don’t get to make demands, decide who’s in the team, or call for try-outs. Malfoy stays.’  
  
Cal glowered. ‘Then I will laugh when Gryffindor carts off the trophy this year. Or Hufflepuff, maybe; Diggory’s recruited some good ones.’ He glanced over at Falco, who had got to his feet and come to join him. The other Beater had been his mentor, the one who’d trained him, and they were good, he knew. Some of the best Slytherin House had seen in years, even if he’d only played four matches now.  
  
‘I’m sorry, Matthew,’ Cal said to Falco, then looked to Flint. ‘If you keep Malfoy, if you won’t even hold a try-out - if you want to be bought and if you care this much about your ego, then to hell with you and the team. I quit.’  
  
‘Quit? You can’t quit!’ At last, Flint looked worried. People might argue with him, but they usually backed down when they saw the way the wind was blowing. ‘Falco, knock some sense into him.’  
  
Matthew Falco hadn’t drunk _that_ much Butterbeer. ‘Nah, this is a joke, Flint. I’ve got NEWTs this year, five Cups under my belt, and if you’re doing this, you’re not half the skipper MacNair was. I quit, too.’ He clapped Cal on the shoulder. ‘Make Derrick and Bole do it. We’re done.’  
  
Silence fell on the common room, stiff and uncertain as the two former Beaters rejoined the crowd. Cal slunk to Tanith, Gabriel and Tobias, ignoring the awkward air until the hubbub started to rise again. Flint skittered off with the remainder of the team, and only when there was a comfortable hum as business as usual returned did the other three dare to comment.  
  
‘Are you sure about this?’ Tanith leaned over the low table they were sat around. ‘I mean, it’s stupid, but - quitting?’  
  
‘Or what? Sit and play my heart out and watch them lose?’ Cal shook his head. ‘Flint cares more about sucking up to the Malfoys than doing anything for the team. I’ll have no part of it.’  
  
‘You can’t stay on the team and make a difference?’ said Tobias.  
  
‘Not as a Beater. I can’t turn the tide of a game if I’m already dealing with a poor Seeker and thick Chasers. I can’t knock out the whole opposing side, and after today I reckon that’s what it’s going to take.’ Cal looked at the table, gaze darkening. Tobias’ essay notes covered the surface, as extensive as usual but now untouched. Quidditch had for once been enough to distract him from work.  
  
‘If you’re alright with it, mate, then it’s the right decision.’ Gabriel clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Gobstones?’ The other two would fuss and agonise and indulge in politics. And Gabriel would suggest a diversion, as if none of this mattered.  
  
Cal gave a thin smile. ‘Sounds like _exactly_ what I need.’

§

  
  
Tanith looked up from her book an hour later, and peered at the dormitory door from which Gabriel and Cal still hadn’t emerged. She glanced to Tobias. His head was still bent over the essay notes, as if the recent kerfuffle hadn’t happened. ‘Those two bounce back from anything, don’t they.’  
  
‘Certainly,’ Tobias said absently.  
  
She reached to tug his notes back. His quill drew a long, sharp line down the parchment, and she ignored his resentful look. ‘Are you even listening to me?’  
  
‘I have to finish this Arithmancy essay or Vector will have my head! Cal _won_ _’t_ have my head for not joining in Gobstones. And I’m sick of Gobstones.’  
  
‘You used to play Gobstones all the time.’  
  
‘I was eleven!’ He looked at the parchments clutched in her hand. ‘Can I have those back?’  
  
She grimaced, but tossed them onto the table. ‘You better have this done by Hogsmeade. You’re not missing it because you’re doing _homework_.’  
  
‘After it was delayed? Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’ He still didn’t look up, tidying the damage she’d done. ‘I need to sort out Christmas presents anyway. Using owl-order was annoying. I guess.’  
  
She frowned at his bent head. ‘You’re not going to talk to me, are you.’  
  
‘I have new subjects, I’d like to do _well_ in them; I know that doing my work is a bloody novelty to you, but some of us would like to succeed!’  
  
‘But I’m _bored_.’  
  
‘Do your Care of Magical Creatures work!’  
  
‘I thought you said it was a stupid subject nobody should be expected to put a shred of effort into?’ She tried to smother her smirk.  
  
Tobias glared at the table. ‘If it stops you from bugging me, then you can put effort into it. Or you could go play Gobstones with the guys?’  
  
‘I’ve always hated Gobstones.’ He didn’t answer that, likely knowing that if he said anything, she’d take it as an invitation to speak more. Silence ticked over, the common room returning to normal, the disappointments of the day pushed to the back of minds. Eventually she leaned over towards his papers. ‘What’s the essay on?’  
  
Tobias clicked his tongue. ‘Introductory at this point. Comparing and contrasting fundamental principles of the Chaldean method versus the Agrippan method.’  
  
‘ _Fascinating_.’  
  
‘It really is.’ Sometimes Tobias was immune to irony. ‘I mean, in other subjects, we just wave a wand and think about what we’re going to do. But Arithmancy isn’t just about divination; it boils down to fundamental questions about inherent magical principles which spills over into other subjects.’  
  
‘It’s a nutty subject, for the hard-core nutters,’ Tanith decided. ‘You’d be better with Care of Magical Creatures.’  
  
‘How many limbs does your professor have? Find me behind this stack of books when you’re being savaged by a chimera.’  
  
But any retort was cut short by the appearance of Professor Snape in the door to the common room. Usually, he made subtle entrances, unnoticed until he found some comment to pounce on, but now he strode in and only had to clear his throat to make silence fall. All heads swivelled in his direction. When Professor Snape had an announcement for his House, nobody talked. ‘There has been,’ he said, ‘another attack. A student this time. A First Year Muggle-born of Gryffindor has been Petrified, and is in the Infirmary.’ Dark eyes swept over the gathered pupils, subduing any possible comment. Snape would look the other way on many a transgression, but some offences he could not overlook. Any indication of satisfaction at an attack on a student could not be tolerated, not right under his nose.  
  
Nobody spoke, or even moved.  
  
‘Security will be increased. I know you all think you have nothing to fear, but never be complacent. The matter is being dealt with, and for now the Hogsmeade trip will go ahead as planned, but I must advise you to be cautious, to not travel the corridors alone, and to _inform_ me if you know anything which might be of use.’ Snape’s eyes seemed more piercing at the last, and Tanith had to wonder if he had anyone in mind.  
  
‘You should have all been in bed an hour ago, at least,’ was his only final statement, before he turned on his heel and left. It was his general manner of running the House, more _laissez-faire_ than the other House Heads, by all accounts. He never yelled. He never took House points. He only gave out detentions when his hand was forced, or when prefects formally requested them. He knew Slytherin was targeted by those outside the House, and so did his best to shield them, and looked the other way when they retaliated.  
  
Tanith knew Tobias would complain that Snape also ignored the bullies who gave the House a bad name. But that was another problem for another time. ‘I don’t know why we should be worried. It’s not like we’re in any danger. It’s just some Muggle-born kid in the wrong place at the wrong time, with a great big target painted on him.’  
  
Tobias was still bent over his essay notes, but his quill wasn’t moving. ‘Why _shouldn_ _’t_ we be worried? Attacks on the school are attacks. It’s bad.’  
  
Had she paid more attention, she might have noticed his frosty tone. ‘You read up on the Chamber of Secrets. This is about the Muggle-borns, not about people from good wizarding families like us.’  
  
‘That’s if you believe it really _is_ the Chamber of Secrets. The return of the work of Salazar Slytherin is hardly something we can confirm.’ Tobias was doodling on his notes now. He never doodled. ‘And if it _is_ this Heir, and if non-purebloods are in danger, even if it doesn’t affect you then it’s something you should care about.’  
  
Tanith frowned. ‘It’s not really my problem.’  
  
‘Really?’ Tobias finally lifted his head, and she forced back a sigh. He was going to get on one of his idealistic rants about this. ‘It doesn’t bug you that something might be trying to _kill_ other students?’  
  
‘You _know_ I’m not in for You-Know-Who’s extermination of those who aren’t purebloods, but I’m not going to cry a thousand tears if some Muggle-borns wind up dead, either!’  
  
‘So long as it doesn’t concern you, it’s fine?’  
  
‘And those I care about.’  
  
‘And the fact that Muggle-borns are witches and wizards like us is irrelevant?’  
  
‘But they’re not, are they?’ That at last got Tobias’ attention, and she shrugged. ‘They’re different. You know that as well as I do. They’re not quite Muggles, but they’re not proper wizards, either, are they? They weren’t raised in our world, they don’t know our principles, our values, our culture.’  
  
‘You’d say they’re lesser?’ offered Tobias blandly.  
  
‘As wizards, yes. I never subscribed to eradication, and neither did my family, but I think they should stay out of magic. It’s not their world, it’s ours.’  
  
He chewed on the inside of his cheek. ‘I never knew you felt like this about Muggle-borns.’  
  
‘I have some pride in our world, Tobias, and they’re just not a part of it.’  
  
Then he slammed his Arithmancy book shut, and despite herself, she jumped. ‘I guess that means I’m not a part of your world, then?’  
  
‘You?’ She blinked. ‘You’re not Muggle-born.’  
  
His eyes were cold. ‘You know about my mother. Hart family, a good family. Good Slytherins, good wizarding stock. Ever stopped to ask about the Grey family?’  
  
Tanith resisted the urge to roll her eyes; he was obviously upset. ‘Tobias, nobody _cares_ if your grandfather’s grandfather was a Muggle-born. There’s pureblood and there’s pureblood.’ It was true. Pureblood society wasn’t what it professed to be for all but a handful of families. In practice, so long as the Muggle blood predated living memory, nobody cared a great deal if an ancestor of a respected lineage had married a half-blood.  
  
But he was unmoved. ‘Do you care if my father was?’ The realisation was like a slam to her throat, and her eyes widened. ‘That’s right,’ Tobias continued. ‘My father was a Muggle-born. Killed in the war by those who think like you, even if you don’t act like them.’ He’d gathered his notes, and shot to his feet. ‘That makes me the son of a blood traitor and a lesser being who didn’t belong in this world to begin with. So I might be half-acceptable. I doubt that’ll be good enough for the Heir of Slytherin.’  
  
She was still staring at him, when he gave her a humourless smile and hefted his books. ‘So now it affects those you care about. Maybe. I’m not going to assume either way. After all, I’m _lesser_. How could I have a valid judgement?’  
  
That said, he turned on his heel and stormed towards the boys’ dormitory, leaving her open-mouthed, astonished, and, somewhere around the edge of the shocked numbness, increasingly guilty.

 

§

  
  
‘Wake up.’ Tobias elbowed Cal in the ribs as Professor Binns’ droning washed over them. ‘You look ridiculous.’  
  
Cal stirred with a low rumble. ‘When I sleep in class, it’s my appearance I care about.’ But he lifted his head just in time to look attentive as Binns’ attention fell on them. Tobias being Tobias, he had grabbed them a seat at the front of the classroom, close enough to take good notes and pay extra attention. And, Cal suspected, far enough away from Tanith, who was sat in the back with Gabriel. ‘I’ll get your notes later.’  
  
Tobias sighed. He never gave over his notes, but he understood that Binns reduced the subject to its most boring essentials, and he’d go over the pertinent points later to anyone who wanted to catch up. Everyone gathered around Tobias the evening after a History of Magic lesson, discovering there that the subject wasn’t boring _if_ they were being lectured by someone who had genuine enthusiasm for the topic.  
  
‘…and many historians have accepted that the Muggle Protection Laws were nothing more than legal recognition of extant social attitudes,’ Binns droned. ‘Society had already acknowledged the immorality and foolishness of attacking non-wizarding individuals, seeing it as both inhumane and dangerous, risking the exposure of the magical world…’  
  
Tobias raised a hand. ‘Sir, I’m not sure that’s correct.’  
  
Heads snapped up from their bored stupors, and Cal frowned. Nobody spoke up in History of Magic. Not even Tobias. Binns, for his part, looked like he wasn’t sure how to handle this, his ghostly form blinking. ‘Excuse me, Mister Grahams?’  
  
‘Grey. It’s Grey.’ Every time, Binns got their names wrong. Nobody bothered to correct him except for Tobias. ‘You’re overlooking Partridge’s research. There was a marked decrease in officially noted Muggle attacks after the legislation came through. And, on the Muggle side, far fewer “unexplained” incidents we attribute to the magical community. Crime went down.’  
  
Binns stared. Nobody debated history, and Cal suspected this was the same from first year all the way up to NEWT level. If anyone ever took a NEWT in History of Magic.  
  
But out of the corner of his eye he saw another hand shoot up, and Cal winced when he saw it was Tanith. ‘Sir, you might want to consider that Partridge was a biased observer. He was a Muggle-born and closely linked to the political groups searching for harsher sentences against offenders. Proving the efficacy of the Muggle Protection Laws suited his purpose.’  
  
 _When the hell did Tanith read about the history of anti-Muggle movements?_ Then Tobias was talking, and Cal’s gaze swung back and forth with the class’s like they were watching a Quidditch game.  
  
‘Biased or not,’ said Tobias, ‘the figures speak for themselves. Partridge was just the first person to look them up. Muggle attacks might not have been “socially acceptable” at that point in time, but they still happened, mostly committed by groups of young, proud purebloods who believed nobody would stop them. Partridge pointed out that the new legislation halved these attacks.’  
  
‘Apparently,’ said Tanith, and Cal had to lean back as her dark eyes met Tobias’ icy blue ones across the crowded classroom. He didn’t want to get in the middle of that. ‘Then consider Greenford’s argument about how the information was gathered. Before the laws came in, social or not, you’d still get these young, _proud purebloods_ -’ The emphasis was not lost on Cal, ‘- baiting Muggles and then gloating about it. After the laws were in place, they wouldn’t gloat or they’d get in trouble. It didn’t _change_ anything, it just made society _believe_ the problem was fixed. Another pointless effort by the Ministry.’  
  
‘Pointless. The Ministry should have sat there and let Muggles be attacked?’  
  
‘Did I say that?’ The lesson had now been forgotten; the entire class was watching this exchange with a perverse fascination, and Binns was too shocked that people were debating his subject to interrupt. Normally Cal thought a row was better than a History lesson, but he felt like he was sat on a sinking ship. ‘One could argue the laws made society _lazy_ and made them think the problem was dealt with, so they didn’t do more. You’re putting words in my mouth, Grey.’  
  
‘Well, _Cole_ , you were being vague, and so I have to fill in the gaps based on what I know of your beliefs -’  
  
‘Or you could stop and _listen_ for a moment -’  
  
‘Lesson over!’ Binns exclaimed. This classroom had never seen a more active debate over historical matters, and he took the end of the hour as a good excuse to bring this upset to a halt.  
  
‘Let’s go,’ Cal hissed, not waiting for Tobias to answer before he grabbed him by the elbow and yanked him for the door. ‘Right now.’ Tobias was too surprised to argue, and so Cal dragged him out of the classroom, past Tanith before they could exchange glares and words, and ignored any protests as he frog-marched him through the corridors, down to the common room, and into their dormitory.  
  
He slammed the door behind them. ‘This has to stop. It’s been going on for a week.’  
  
‘I’m waiting for an apology.’ Tobias stood tall and stiff and angry. ‘That’s all I want. I’m not going to say that it’s nothing, I’m not going to forget it. Why aren’t _you_ angry about this?’  
  
‘What, you thought she was different? This came as a _surprise_ to you? The Coles are an old family. It’s amazing they _weren_ _’t_ Death Eaters. She never said it before, but you knew it was there. You just chose _now_ to pick a fight, so don’t act all surprised!’  
  
Tobias threw his bag on the ground. ‘Don’t act like it’s my fault for not keeping my mouth shut any more! I’ve just had enough!’  
  
‘I know, because there’s some monster marauding the corridors, and if you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time, you’re a target.’  
  
‘Cal, you can trace _your_ lineage back umpteen centuries. You think a monster roaming the corridor is going to stop and check before it tries to kill you? Don’t piss off rampaging monsters - that’s pretty much our school motto.’ But Tobias’s voice was low, pained, and he didn’t meet his eyes.  
  
‘This is the first time the subject’s come up in school,’ Cal reminded him. ‘Give Tanith a chance. You think she ever had to stop and think about her opinion?’  
  
‘No. That’s why I’m giving her a chance to apologise.’  
  
‘And pouncing on her every word in class is going to help that? She’s still Tanith Cole, she’s not going to win the Miss Humble of the Year Award.’  
  
‘She’s in the wrong here!’  
  
‘She’s been _reading_. About history. About Muggle Rights history. You think she’s not thinking? Maybe give her a chance, and don’t be an arse about it.’ Cal tossed his hands in the air. ‘This is a miserable time for everyone. Except the thick Slytherins cheering as Muggle-borns drop.’  
  
‘She’s practically one of them.’  
  
Cal’s hand was at his shoulder, the shove firm, his eyes darkening. ‘You know she’s not. Don’t talk like that, or I’ll wallop you properly. She’s better than Ed, and Miles, and Malfoy, and all those pillocks. You know it.’  
  
‘Except now she’s spending more time with them. Or people like them. Melanie and Ariane…’ Tobias’ voice turned gruff, his anger subsiding even if there had been a flash of resentment when he’d been pushed. ‘Not exactly the most open-minded people. There’s a reason I didn’t talk about my Dad. I only told you last year because you told me about… you know.’  
  
‘Yeah. My issues.’ Cal’s brow furrowed. ‘What do the Muggles say? “ _There but for the grace of God go I._ ” Believe it or not, I think myself _lucky_. I was exposed to a different way of life. If things had gone different, I’d be like her. _Worse_ than her.’ He sighed. ‘Look, we’ve got Hogsmeade tomorrow. We’ll get away from school, clear our heads, and you can talk to her.’  
  
‘I want an apology,’ Tobias repeated. ‘She’s insulted me, she’s insulted my Dad, and I won’t be her exception to the rules. I won’t indulge this.’  
  
‘You’re holding out for an apology from Tanith Cole.’ Cal tried to not smile. ‘Seriously. You two just need to talk without sniping.’  
  
‘I don’t snipe. I comment.’  
  
‘Sure, just like she doesn’t retaliate, she _answers_.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Swings and roundabouts. Gabe will get her to the Three Broomsticks tomorrow. You two can talk, and stop acting like little kids. It gets annoying, and it means I can’t act all stupid and immature. I have to be the babysitter, instead of the baby-sat.’ But he clapped Tobias on the shoulder, reassuring, and his friend gave a small nod. ‘You two need to start being the grown-ups again, or Gabe and I might have to act childish and go blow something up.’  
  
‘Just to get our attention?’  
  
‘Just because we feel like it.’

 

§

  
  
‘Here. Drink this. It’ll make you seem less moody.’ Cal slid a mug of Butterbeer across the table in The Three Broomsticks he and Tobias had commandeered. Even though this was their first ever trip to Hogsmeade, they hadn’t stopped to check out the sights and sounds, the sweet shops or any of the fun their classmates were indulging in. Cal had dragged him down the main street and almost tackled him into the pub.  
  
A meeting with Tanith wasn’t something Tobias wanted to miss. He knew she’d have some devastating way to deal with tardiness. But they were a good fifteen minutes early, and if this took all afternoon, he’d stand no chance of making it to the bookstore to nose around. Or, that was what he told himself was the reason for his reluctance. Anything else took admitting he was nervous.  
  
‘I’m not moody,’ he said instead, and sipped the Butterbeer. ‘Gabe will have her here on time, don’t worry about your precious little happy friendship-fixing plan.’  
  
‘Oh, yeah. Because what would you do instead? Go to the bookshop? That’ll solve your problems with Tanith. It may be your answer to everything else, but it’s not going to work here. You may need social skills.’  
  
‘All I want is an apology,’ Tobias repeated, swirling the Butterbeer around in the mug.  
  
‘You’ll get one, it just might not include the words, “I’m sorry”…’ Cal’s voice trailed off, and he looked over Tobias’ shoulder to the door. ‘Hey, looks like she’s just as nervous and prompt as we were. Guess she really does want to talk.’ He sounded unsurprised.  
  
Tobias stiffened. ‘Or Gabe just wanted to hang out in Hogsmeade, so he hurried her here as soon as possible.’  
  
Cal glared as he stood. ‘Stop pretending you have better places to be, or I really will believe you don’t want this fixed. And then I’ll hit you. Kinda hard.’ He grinned humorlessly, then sauntered to the door. Tobias twisted in his chair to see him pause by Tanith, exchange words he couldn’t hear, and then Cal and Gabriel left.  
  
When Tanith turned in his direction, he looked away as if he hadn’t been looking at all. So he had no idea where she was, what her body language was, if she was even close, if she was even coming -  
  
‘Mind if I sit here?’ Her voice was casual and yet guarded, and when he looked up he saw her stood with squared shoulders, an awkward front of false casualness he could see through after years of friendship.  
  
It went some way to loosening the knot in his gut. ‘Cal didn’t touch that Butterbeer. I guess he bought it for you.’ He nodded to the chair opposite.  
  
‘I’ll pay him back later.’ She sat down, her tone suggesting she was talking about more than a drink.  
  
Silence fell as she sipped the Butterbeer and he stared into his until the steam made his glasses fog over. It gave him the excuse to pull them off and clean them with his sleeve, gave him something to fiddle with as he waited, because he was absolutely not going to make the first move. And he didn’t know what hers was going to be. He wasn’t used to an uncertain Tanith.  
  
‘Cal said you wanted an apology.’ She sounded like the word had been dragged past her lips.  
  
He frowned at his glasses. This was ridiculous. He didn’t want a forced apology so she could play nice and then they could pretend everything was normal. This _wasn_ _’t_ normal. He wouldn’t stand her acting like his friend and then insulting people who represented his whole background, his whole heritage. His father had been a Muggle, he himself had been to a Muggle primary school - ostracised and ignored for being ‘weird’, but he remembered his classmates nevertheless. They had been children. Not lesser.  
  
This couldn’t be fixed by mere lip-service. If she wouldn’t change, then…  
  
Then he didn’t want to think about it.  
  
‘I know an apology isn’t enough. I’m sorry, I really am. But you deserve more than that.’  
  
Tobias dropped his glasses and looked up. She had hunched her shoulders in, voice honest. Tanith Cole didn’t show weakness, but here she was, and he’d never seen her more sincere - or guilty.  
  
‘Wait a second. Did you just apologise?’ He was too surprised to sound anything but sarcastic.  
  
There was a flash in her eyes, and everything was a bit more normal. But not better. ‘Don’t push it, Grey, I don’t - this is hard. And I guess you still might want an explanation.’  
  
‘I’m not sure how you can _explain_ bigotry.’  
  
The mug of Butterbeer had been halfway to her lips, but she slammed it down. Her glare was fixed on the table, and her shoulders hunched again. ‘Are you going to listen? Or do I -’ Her voice wavered, and she drew a deep breath. ‘Can you listen?’  
  
Guilt swam in him at last. He’d said all he wanted was an apology. Then she’d given one and he’d continued to bristle. The least he could do was let her say her piece, and he lifted his hands. ‘Go on.’  
  
She paused, took a deep breath to calm herself. A swig of Butterbeer delayed a response as she visibly gathered her thoughts. ‘You’ve met my family,’ she said at last. ‘Met my father, my mother, you get the picture. You know what they’re like.’  
  
‘They seemed nice enough.’  
  
‘When they bothered to talk to me, or you.’ She struggled to meet his gaze. ‘Never Death Eaters. None of that in my family. Not loyal to the Ministry, either; my father did a _tremendous_ job of staying neutral and upsetting exactly nobody. And standing up for nothing. So don’t get me wrong. The Coles are a pureblooded family, and proud of it.’  
  
‘And not proud of those with less than pure blood,’ Tobias said bitterly.  
  
Her cheeks coloured. ‘I’ve had all week to think about this. I did some reading - that’s what I was trying to say in the History lesson, I was… I’d looked at the changes and I thought they weren’t _enough_ , they were just gestures to make us feel less guilty without challenging things. And Cal talked to me about his foster-father, the Muggle-born fellow. I didn’t mean to be snappish. It’s jut been… weird.’  
  
‘That, I’d agree with.’  
  
‘I guess some of what Altair’s been telling me since forever sank in, about ability defining us. He might be a Squib, but I still respect him, I still listen to him. And I think he’d be so disappointed in me right now. He kept saying how I had more “potential” than my sister, and I assumed that was in magic, power. But he taught me about art, literature, music, things Hogwarts overlooks. I think he meant I had the potential to have more of an open mind. And I screwed it up, like any other stupid Slytherin pureblood.’  
  
‘You’re not as bad as Montague or Bletchley.’ Even if he was angry with her, she looked so woeful he had to offer that nugget.  
  
‘Same train of thought. I just didn’t act on it as much. I believed it.’ She pushed a lock of dark hair behind her ear. ‘You’re… you’re one of the best people I know, Grey. You’re a good guy. You’re a _great_ wizard, you’re clearly head and shoulders above anyone else in the year, there is _nothing_ lesser about you. But you’re a half-blood.’  
  
‘Which contradicts everything you’ve been taught,’ said Tobias, gaze going guarded.  
  
‘So it means something’s wrong here. Either what I’ve seen with my own eyes - you - is wrong, or what I’ve been _told_ is incorrect.’ She managed a tight smile. ‘I’ve been brushing up on history. Any good historian knows that a primary source might be biased, but it’s usually more valuable than a secondary source. I’ve seen you with my own eyes. And… maybe I am biased.’ Her gaze flickered to the table. ‘I’m okay being biased in your favour. And I can’t ignore the evidence.’  
  
Tobias chuckled, a nervous reaction as much as it was a pleased one. ‘Thank God for Mister Ritter, then. Or you really _would_ be as stupid as Montague and Bletchley.’  
  
‘I was told day after day that ability defines us, not a hierarchy. It’s why I don’t kowtow to Draco like the others do. I was just dumb and thought that Muggle-borns and half-bloods didn’t… count.’  
  
‘That’s the problem with Slytherin. It’s mostly those who can pass as purebloods, so people like Montague don’t get exposed to people who can prove them wrong,’ Tobias sighed.  
  
‘It might be a bit much to let them know about you,’ Tanith said. ‘Or, it’ll make your life harder than it needs to be. But you’ve proved _me_ wrong.’  
  
He felt heat rise to his cheeks. ‘No, I don’t want to be a world-changer or a role-model, and they wouldn’t listen if they knew, they’d just dismiss me more than they already do.’  
  
‘I guess you’re right. We never do stick our heads up.’  
  
‘We’d just get them chopped off.’  
  
Tanith nodded, though she still wore a tentative grimace. ‘So… apology accepted?’  
  
The corners of his eyes creased as he looked at her. ‘Of course it is. You’d probably kill me if we were angry at each other for any longer.’ But his gaze softened. ‘We’re okay. Come on. Hogsmeade won’t last forever. And I’ve _still_ hardly seen anything.’  
  
‘Me neither.’ She sprung to her feet as he did. ‘Zonko’s?’  
  
‘Sure, so long as we can hit the bookstore later,’ he said, and like that everything was normal.  
  
Almost. They had crossed the Rubicon; nothing would be the same. This had been their first proper row, the first fight about things which really mattered, and in some ways, he’d won. Or, they’d both won; they’d faced ignorance and bigotry and come out of it closer.  
  
It wasn’t the same. It was _better_.  
  
‘I want to hit the sweetshop later, too,’ Tobias added, gaze brightening. ‘My sweet-tooth is crying out for attention.’  
  
‘Much like the rest of you, really,’ said Tanith dryly.  
  
Alright. So some things were the same.  
  



	4. December 15th, 1994 – Fifth Year

****

‘Is it me, or is this Yule Ball idea nothing more than torment inflicted on us by that decrepit old fossil? Is he _trying_ to give us scars of mortification and humiliation to leave us shattered husks of adults, haunted by our teen-aged embarrassments?’ Tobias’ voice was a low, urgent hiss as he and Cal descended the stairs into the Slytherin common room.  
  
The crowds were similarly abuzz, students holding frantic conferences or eyeballing each other like pieces of meat or potential threats. Already Tobias could sense eyes upon him. Ever since becoming a prefect, he had stopped his efforts to be overlooked; an underestimated prefect was not a prefect who could establish order. Tanith had warned him he’d live to regret this choice, and he was starting to suspect she was right.  
  
Except the thought of Tanith in the context of the Yule Ball was enough to send a fresh jolt through his gut that only amplified his anxiety.  
  
‘He just wants to hurt us, boyo. The old bastard takes too much pleasure in the suffering of kids.’ Cal sidestepped some third-years who were eyeing him up and down. ‘I say we give the whole thing a miss.’  
  
‘You can’t skip it, you bloody cowards!’ Heads turned as Gabriel Doyle’s voice broke the hubbub of the common room, though the boy himself was draped artfully across an armchair, as unconcerned by the turmoil around him as the eye of the storm.  
  
‘Why the hell not?’ Tobias asked, walking over to flop on the sofa. Cal collapsed beside him with a grunt. ‘Where are we supposed to find partners? My dress robes are ridiculous. I can dance, but what if _she_ can’t? Am I supposed to teach her beforehand? I don’t even _have_ a “she!”’  
  
Gabriel arched an eyebrow. ‘Finding partners is easy. Just look around you. See the wonders of Slytherin House.’ A languid hand gestured to the room, and Tobias wondered if he was taking something to designate _all_ of the girls around him as ‘wonders.’  
  
Silence met his invitation until Cal drew a deep breath. ‘Gabe,’ he said. ‘Slytherin House has the _worst_ ratio of boys to girls in the whole of Hogwarts.’  
  
‘And even worse if you take into account the number of girls who’re built like battleships and about half as pretty. At this rate, Cal and I will have to go _together_.’  
  
Gabriel gave a short laugh. ‘Before you lovebirds jump at the opportunity to declare your affection, take into account the size and intellect of half the _men_ of Slytherin House. Remember, the Sorting Hat seems to think, “stupid, cruel and thuggish,” were part of Salazar Slytherin’s wishes.’  
  
‘Bastard hat,’ Cal mumbled.  
  
‘So what you’re saying, Gabe, is that Slytherin House is our oyster?’ Tobias relaxed a little as he leaned back, pulling off his glasses to polish them on his sleeve as he took in the crowds.  
  
‘I don’t think oysters are on the menu for the Ball,’ said Gabriel, blank-faced. ‘There’s turkey, it’s a Yule party, what did you _expect_?’  
  
Cal sighed. ‘He _means_ , do you really think there are _that_ many prospects out there? Decent girls who haven’t already been taken?’  
  
‘Of course! Plenty are left, I’m sure. I mean, I asked Melanie a few minutes ago, but there are always plenty left,’ said Gabriel, encouraging them even as he confirmed one of their _three_ female fifth-year contemporaries were taken.  
  
‘Great - I’ll go find Ariane,’ said Cal, going to stand. Ariane Drake and Melanie Larkin were amiable enough so long as one didn’t draw their ire, and they tended to save that judgement for the rest of the school. Tobias doubted either was Cal’s first choice, though he knew Gabriel and Melanie had been indulging in something on-and-off and entirely without definition or, in Tobias’ opinion, future prospects. He didn’t want to ask for further details.  
  
‘Miles got there first,’ said Gabriel, shattering Cal’s plans without apology.  
  
Cal sat with a scowl. ‘And like that, you build up our hopes only to dash them again.’ Gabriel looked unconcerned, and Cal’s gaze turned to Tobias. ‘We’re _screwed_.’  
  
But then Gabriel’s dark-eyed gaze landed on Tobias with an unsettlingly piercing air. ‘Tobias isn’t. Because Tobias has remembered Secret Option Three, which is _only_ available to him.’  
  
Tobias narrowed his eyes. ‘What do you think you know?’  
  
‘I _think_ I’ve paid attention for the last _forever_.’ Gabriel blew his fringe out of his eyes, like his observation of the outside world was the most casual and easy thing ever, even when he’d seen through every single one of his friends’ masks.  
  
‘To what?’ Cal sounded lost. ‘What’s been forever?’  
  
‘Caldwyn, my friend, you put the “b” in “subtle”,’ said Gabriel, not unkindly, before his attention returned to Tobias. ‘So, you’ll talk to Tanith?’  
  
Cal clicked his fingers. ‘Damn it, yes, Tanith! That would make life so much easier. She wouldn’t _care_ what colour my dress robes were and we’d probably have a blast all evening without worrying about…’ His voice trailed off as he caught the firm look from Gabriel. Then he looked to Tobias who sat, brow furrowed, deep in thought. ‘Oh, damn,’ he concluded.  
  
‘Accurate assessment,’ murmured Tobias.  
  
‘This has been your plan since Snape told us two hours ago, hasn’t it,’ said Cal, crestfallen.  
  
‘It’s been his plan for the last _six_ _months_ at least,’ said Gabriel, lounging back as if his friends’ romantic entanglements were of no more interest to him than abandoned balls of twine to a lazy cat. He would play with them, flick them about, and then look to something else.  
  
Tobias scowled. ‘Alright. I’ve thought about it a _bit_. I’m doomed, aren’t I?’  
  
‘Not if you pull it off right.’ Gabriel looked at his watch. ‘Though you might want to move fast; last I saw Tanith, that Radimir fellow from Durmstrang was making a move -’  
  
Papers and cushions went flying as Tobias kicked himself into the air and fair flew towards the door to the common room - only to almost bowl directly into Tanith as she stepped in. He had to skid to a halt, smooth his hair, straighten his robes, and so hadn’t summoned a conversation opener before she quirked an eyebrow at him.  
  
‘Where’re _you_ off to in such a hurry?’  
  
‘I was - to talk to -’ Tobias pointed at the door, grateful for the small mercy that Cal and Gabriel couldn’t hear him from here. He sagged. ‘Never mind. How was Care of Magical Creatures?’ Somehow, that was the only question which sprang to mind.  
  
‘Ugh.’ Distracting Tanith was always as easy as getting her onto a topic she could rant about. ‘That lump Hagrid’s as useless as ever, but at least my Blast-Ended Skrewt isn’t a harm to life or limb any more. Except its own life, I suppose, as it’s _dead_. It will not be missed.’  
  
Tobias grinned a nervous grin, and then all he could say was, ‘You spoke to Radimir?’ _Smooth_.  
  
‘Radimir?’  
  
‘Yeah. Gabe mentioned. Chatting. Couple minutes ago.’  
  
‘Uh, just some Ancient Runes stuff.’ _Now_ she was looking suspicious. ‘Why?’  
  
‘No reason,’ he said, but she took him at face value, nodding and going to head further into the common room. He side-stepped to block her path. ‘I mean, it’s just this Yule Ball stuff. Ariane and Melanie are going with Miles and Gabe. I was just thinking.’ Another pause, and now she looked like she’d hex him if he didn’t skip to the point. ‘I mean, you’re the only girl left in our year.’  
  
She _snorted_. ‘Oh, that’s the romantic invitation of the _year_ , Grey. “Go with me, you’re the only girl left.”’  
  
Something bubbled in his heart as he flapped his hands. ‘I didn’t mean - I don’t -’  
  
To his surprise, she smiled. ‘Relax! It’s a good idea.’  
  
‘It is?’  
  
‘Yeah. Less painful than hunting down some eligible bloke. It’ll be more of a laugh if it’s you and me.’  
  
 _No! Don_ _’t say it’s a laugh!_ Tobias’ internal critique turned to internal panic. _Say it sounds wonderful! Say you_ _’d be delighted to go to the Yule Ball with me! Say you know it’ll be a magical evening!_  
  
‘I know, right?’ he said instead. His laugh was a traitor in his throat. ‘I figured, why get stressed out finding a girl when there’s a friend right here?’ It was like he could see the window of opportunity for clarifying his intentions sail right by him, and all he could do was wave.  
  
‘I’ll be _sure_ to tell you what I’m wearing so you can colour coordinate appropriately. Have to be fashionable, after all.’ She stuck her nose in the air with a mock-haughty demeanour - fashion was always the least of her concerns - before the smirk returned. ‘Anyway, I’m going to go shower, because I’ve been stuck with a dead Skrewt all afternoon, but good thinking, Grey. This is why you’re the brains.’ She patted him on the shoulder in a way which was entirely companionable but still made his stomach lurch, then sauntered for the dormitories.  
  
Tobias’ feet were numb as they carried him back to Cal and Gabriel. ‘So,’ he said, in a voice which didn’t sound like his own. ‘We’re going together.’  
  
‘You told her you’d go as friends, didn’t you.’ Gabriel barely needed to look at him to reach this conclusion. ‘You’re _useless_ , Grey.’  
  
Cal looked between them both, brow furrowed. ‘I thought you were - I thought it _wasn_ _’t_ just friends…?’  
  
‘I didn’t _say_ \- she _assumed_ ,’ Tobias stuttered, but then his words shifted to come in a free-flow of panic. ‘And maybe I didn’t phrase it right but she assumed and then I didn’t correct her… and now we’re just a pair of friends going as friends because it’s easier and I don’t like dancing! I mean, I _can_ dance, but I don’t want to!’  
  
‘You’re going to need to nip this in the bud,’ Gabriel said.  
  
‘Oh!’ Cal jumped up. ‘Christmas present! You can give it beforehand, and that’s a _really_ good way to say “I’m being more than just a friend”!’  
  
Gabriel snapped his fingers. ‘Words of wisdom. What did you get her?’  
  
Tobias sat up, heart surging with hope. ‘She’ll _love_ it; it’s the memoirs of Barnabus Rourke, an Auror hero from the Grindelwald… what?’  
  
They were groaning, and Gabriel shook his head. ‘A _book_? That’s a friend present, Grey. Get her jewellery. Get her expensive chocolates. Get her something subtle which she’d love but didn’t even realise she wanted, and you worked it out from paying careful attention all these years, just to demonstrate you _do_ have emotions and are perfect for her.’  
  
Tobias stared at him. ‘Like what?’  
  
They sat in silence for a long moment. Then Cal drew a deep breath. ‘Get her jewellery,’ he said, and Gabriel nodded firmly.  
  
‘I’ll have to owl-order something… but I don’t have much choice, do I? It’s only ten days -’  
  
‘You can use Gawain,’ said Cal, and Tobias felt a rush of gratitude towards his best friend. ‘He’s faster than most owls.’  
  
‘Express delivery is going to cost a bomb,’ Tobias muttered, ‘but I’ll spend every last bloody knut if I have to.’  
  
‘That’s the spirit!’ Gabriel encouraged. ‘Self-sacrifice. Women love that.’  
  
And he and Cal subsided as if this entire matter was resolved, leaving Tobias to sink into silence of rumination and deep, gut-wrenching apprehension. One thing was certain: this Yule Ball was _not_ going to be the jolly diversion Dumbledore obviously thought it to be.

 

§

  
  
‘Cal, will you put that away? I didn’t get you it so you could unleash it on _me_.’ Tobias looked away from the mirror, abandoning fussing over his cravat to glare at his friend.  
  
‘You said this was so I could record history.’ Cal sat on his bed in their dormitory, brandishing the Recording Orb that had been his Christmas present. ‘I know you expected me to rush out and record matters of deep and heavy importance which will make it in the history books, but I don’t know _what_ will be in the history books, as we’re not in history yet. So I decided, instead, to record something we can look back on in ten years and laugh at.’ He waggled the Orb. It was a simple form of magic, and only worked on a small scale, but could record several hours of sights and sounds and give a hazy reproduction with a simple charm. Fun, Tobias had thought when he’d bought it. Now he was regretting it.  
  
‘You never know,’ Cal continued. ‘You might be famous some day and I can sell your embarrassing Yule Ball for millions.’  
  
‘Posterity is the word,’ said Gabriel as he emerged from the bathroom. He was already in his flowing emerald dress robes, but his hair was damp from the shower, no doubt to remain the careless, flopping mess it usually was. ‘Then again, Cal, what’s to say it won’t be _you_ who’ll be famous in the future?’  
  
‘I am the narrator. I am the storyteller. I am not the story,’ intoned Cal in a needlessly deep voice, but he still turned the Recording Orb on himself. The deep voice continued as he spoke into it. ‘So, here we are. The opening act of the Yule Ball, as the handsomest hunks of Slytherin House get ready for the gorgeous beauties they wish to entertain. Who knows what romantic possibilities will emerge by the end of the night?’  
  
‘I have a few ideas,’ called Miles Bletchley from the other end of the dorm. He had been fighting with his flamboyant, mahogany robes, but finally his head stuck out the top. The Orb was turned in his direction. ‘A few little plans for Miss Ariane Drake - who shall have the pleasurable company tonight of the wonder that is me!’  
  
‘It’ll end in tears before bed-time,’ said Tobias, frowning at his cravat. He didn’t usually take Bletchley’s posturing so hard; their housemate wasn’t the worst Slytherin had to offer, and he’d been rather self-deprecating, but Tobias’ patience looked low. ‘Though I dare say you’ll have a better bloody shot at romance tonight than me…’  
  
‘You think my intentions are romance, Grey?’ Bletchley buttoned up his collar. ‘Don’t underestimate me.’  
  
Tobias muttered something which sounded venomous and included the word ‘overestimate,’ which made Cal sure it would be more prelude to war than witty comeback, so he turned on Gabriel with the Orb. ‘So, Mister Doyle, what happened to your delightful partner? Tell us again, because it’s funny.’  
  
Gabriel raised a bored eyebrow at him. ‘Charms accident. She’s still in the Hospital Wing, so I’m flying solo.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s fine. Means I don’t have to dance. I hate dancing.’  
  
Cal brightened. ‘We can be my partner-in-crime with the Orb.’  
  
‘I’m glad you continued the sentence after, “partner,” Brynmor,’ said Bletchley as he slotted on his cuff-links. ‘Always wondered about you two. _Anyway_ , I’m done. You ladies take your time; I’m going to go wait five hours for Ariane to be ready, but I’ve got to be there when she comes out. Rules of the world.’ He sauntered for the door, snapping his fingers at Tobias en route. ‘I’d stop there, Grey. You’re looking as good as you’re going to look. And _you_ don’t want to be late, either.’  
  
Tobias looked balefully at his reflection, then drew a slow, calming breath. ‘Tanith will have my head if I keep her waiting,’ he conceded.  
  
Bletchley laughed, and clapped him on the back to steer him towards the door. ‘Don’t you worry, Grey. Tanith’s not as scary as she makes out. She’s a _great_ girl.’  
  
Cal and Gabriel exchanged looks. The Recording Orb was lowered and they tried to camouflage themselves amongst the drapes as Tobias’ eyes narrowed at Bletchley.  
  
‘I’m her best friend, Miles.’ His smile wouldn’t melt butter. ‘I think I know her better than you might with your five-minute relationship last year.’  
  
‘Don’t underestimate the intensity of that relationship. Why, the things I could tell you…’  
  
A muscle twitched in the corner of Tobias’ jaw as he was steered towards the door. ‘Don’t. Really. Besides, Tanith does _talk_ to me, you know. About all sorts.’  
  
That _did_ shut Bletchley up, or at least long enough for them to both disappear out the door. Cal emerged from his cover and looked at Gabriel, who was blowing his fringe out of his face. ‘There could be some really nasty surprises in store for them both tonight. Where the hell are Ed and Adrian, anyway?’  
  
‘Down there already. Montague found himself some Sixth Year, and Pucey got one of Parkinson’s little friends to go with him. He’s an idiot, but he’s a Quidditch star, so…’  
  
Cal lowered the Orb, watching Gabriel as he adjusted his sleeve. ‘Hey, Gabe - can I ask you something?’ An eyebrow was raised at him. ‘You never did explain why you were late to school this year. Just sauntered in on day two without an explanation. I mean, I get it if you don’t want to talk…’  
  
‘It’s nothing important.’ Something tense shifted in Gabriel’s expression, and he drew a slow breath before he looked up from his robes. ‘Switch the Orb off. And erase those last few seconds.’  
  
Cal frowned, but obliged. ‘Of course. Done.’  
  
There was a long pause where Gabriel seemed to think his cuff-links were the most important thing in the world. When he spoke, his voice was light, casual. ‘I wasn’t lying when I said I couldn’t get to King’s Cross in time. My father had an important meeting to go to. And I wanted to wait until it was done, so I knew how it went.’  
  
‘Something that important happened in the Department of Magical Transportation?’  
  
‘Something that important happened at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.’ He looked to the mirror. ‘It was the World Cup. Those Death Eaters. The Wizengamot have been going through lists. Old suspect lists.’  
  
‘Your _father_?’  
  
‘Had links, yes. And no, he’s not a Death Eater, and wasn’t, and didn’t have anything to do with what went down at the World Cup.’ Gabriel’s voice gained tense momentum as the sentence went on, ending in a fierce snap that challenged Cal to make comment.  
  
Cal did not; such a display was beyond unusual for Gabriel and he wasn’t going to push. ‘The Wizengamot cleared him, then, right?’  
  
‘Yes.’ Gabriel snapped his cuff-link shut. ‘It’s ancient history.’  
  
Cal turned the dead Orb over in his hands. ‘What did he do?’  
  
‘He worked in the Department of Mysteries for a while. And passed information over to You-Know-Who. That’d be why Will looked like he wanted to hex him when we got off the train last year. He probably sees him as a traitor - but that was fifteen years ago. A lot’s changed. People have changed.’  
  
‘Times have changed.’ Cal nodded.  
  
Then Gabriel had turned to him, and for once Cal was reminded that his friend was tall, almost as tall as him, and when he squared his shoulders and fixed his disconcertingly dark eyes on you, he could command a room’s attention. ‘I don’t care what people think about me. But don’t tell anyone. I don’t need my family being questioned, and I _don_ _’t_ need the _approval_ of people like Montague and Malfoy.’  
  
Cal lifted a hand. ‘I won’t tell anyone. And you think _I_ _’m_ going to judge you on this? With _my_ parents?’  
  
Gabriel didn’t often smile. He smirked, all superiority or wry sarcasm or something else demeaning. His lips looked awkward at a genuine smile, like they were trying on a pair of ill-fitting shoes. ‘Thanks, Caldwyn,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I knew you wouldn’t press it. I know Tanith’s got her ancient history and Tobias steers clear…’  
  
‘Hey, I’m here to help, mate.’ Cal brandished the Recording Orb. ‘Can I turn this on? I want to go taunt Toby and talk to Tanith. Nothing else you want to say that won’t be recorded for posterity?’  
  
Gabriel looked at him for a long moment, and then the smirk took over his face again. ‘Let’s torment everyone with that tonight. We’ll go all _Daily Prophet_ on them. You handle the Orb, and I’ll interrogate people in embarrassing ways.’  
  
‘Yeah. I’ll start on Toby, but you head down when you’re done grooming yourself, okay?’  
  
Cal headed out of the dormitory, reactivating the Orb as he entered the common room. Tobias and Bletchley stood with the crowd of forlorn Slytherin boys, all waiting with varying degrees of patience. Bletchley looked at ease, casual and certain, but Tobias looked like he might be about to have a fit from nerves. Baiting him seemed cruel, so Cal simply waved at them as he crossed the room for the stairs to the girls’ dormitories.  
  
Tobias had told him something he’d read about, some other Houses not letting boys even get up the stairs before various charms would stop them. Slytherin House was different; Cal needed an express invitation from someone inside, but he could stop by the girls’ rooms if he needed to. This rule did, he presumed, give the Slytherin House heads more headaches with older students than their colleagues might suffer.  
  
He knocked on the door to the fifth year girls’ dormitory. ‘You ladies aren’t indecent, are you? It’s Cal.’  
  
‘Come in,’ came Ariane’s voice, and he waltzed in to see them both already dressed - not that they’d have let him in otherwise - and, he had to admit it, looking rather nice in their dress robes. Cal couldn’t talk about cuts or fashions or nuances of colours beyond ‘green’ and ‘blue,’ but he knew what looked good, and they were it. For the first time, he felt a pang about going alone. Sure, he and Gabe would have a good time, but even _Montague_ had found someone.  
  
‘You ladies are looking gorgeous tonight,’ he said loftily. It was easier to charm when you had nothing at stake, and he distracted himself by looking to Tanith, who was doing up the clasp on her necklace. ‘Hey, isn’t that the thing Tobias got you?’  
  
Ariane always had a nose for gossip and a story. She turned like a thunderstorm towards Tanith, who looked frozen between bashfulness and contemplation of where she’d hide Cal’s body. ‘ _Grey_ got you _that_?’ Ariane stabbed an accusing finger. ‘You said you two were going as _friends_.’  
  
Tanith settled on rolling her eyes. Wry indifference and irritation at the world would always be her weapon of choice. ‘We _are_. It’s a necklace, Ariane, don’t lose your shit. We’re just going to the Ball together to save fussing about with _romantic_ partners.’ She said the word ‘romantic’ like a curse.  
  
‘Ah-ha.’ The laugh was hollow, mocking. ‘I’m sure. You have fun tonight, Tanith, you hear me?’ She swept for the door, pausing to put a hand on Tanith’s shoulder in a well-meaning manner. ‘Grey might be awkward, but he’s a sweetheart really. You shouldn’t toy with him.’  
  
‘I don’t -’ Tanith spluttered, looking at Cal for support. Cal had none to give.  
  
No retort received, Ariane dismissed this issue and swanned over to Cal by the door. ‘Looking dashing, Mister Brynmor. Understated navy; I like the look, though not very Yuletide.’  
  
‘I’m an untraditional sort of guy,’ Cal agreed. ‘I’m rocking the boat. Fighting the system. Uncoordinating the fashion.’  
  
‘That you are.’ Ariane was easy to joke with if you found the right jokes. She was obviously in a good mood tonight if she was making jests about his clothes which were well-meaning, not cutting. ‘If Miles breaks his leg on the way down, come find me by the punch bowl.’  
  
‘Does it count if I arrange that?’ Cal lifted his wand, grinning.  
  
Ariane laughed as she left, but Tanith glared daggers at the door when it was shut. ‘That girl needs it drilling into her skull about friendships between girls and boys. Tobias is a _friend_. You’re a _friend_. Doyle is a _friend_. Why does it have to be more complicated than that?’  
  
‘You and Toby look more photogenic together?’ Cal hesitated. Interference was possibly a betrayal of Tobias, but at the same time, he could smell the explosion on the horizon if obliviousness endured. ‘I don’t know, she does have a bit of a point. Toby spent _ages_ agonising over that necklace.’  
  
Tanith’s expression pinched. ‘That’s what Grey does. Spends ages agonising over emotional things. He wanted to be nice. Not just give me a book. It’s hard for him.’ She toyed with the pendant. ‘He means well, but he can be hopeless.’  
  
‘Yeah. Hopeless. Is that a diamond?’  
  
She met his gaze, and something flickered there. ‘Apparently.’  
  
‘Uh-huh.’ Silence dragged between them for long moments, though Tanith stubbornly didn’t speak. He grimaced. ‘Haven’t you been paying attention the last… some months? The way he’s been uncomfortable around you more than usual? The way he glowers at Dimitri Radimir? Diamond necklace? You’re an Aries. That’s your star-stone, you know.’ He tapped his chest. ‘Divination student here.’  
  
Tanith made a small noise of protest, and turned to the dressing table. ‘Oh, bloody hell. _Thank_ you, Brynmor. Thank you very bloody much.’  
  
‘What?’  
  
She buried her face in her hands. ‘I was happily living in denial but now you’ve gone and dug it up…’  
  
‘You _knew_?’  
  
‘Of course I knew! I am not stupid and he is _not_ subtle! _He_ _’s_ the detached and unemotional one, not me. Thinks that if it can’t be figured out with a book, it’s not worth bothering with.’ She muttered something under her breath. ‘Of _course_ I’ve seen him in a twist lately, I’ve just been trying to work out how to deter him.’  
  
‘So you don’t… feel the same way?’ This situation was escalating quicker than Cal knew how to deal with.  
  
Tanith looked in the mirror for her reflection to meet his gaze, her face a mask of regret. ‘Cal… Toby is my friend, and he’s a very dear friend. But that’s it. And he’s not - he’s just in this stage of infatuations where he’s trying to figure out what he wants and because he’s pretty emotionally incompetent and I’m the girl he spends the most time with, he’s decided it’s me. That’s why I’m trying to let him down gently.’  
  
‘By… agreeing to go to the Ball with him?’  
  
‘I’m going to talk to him! I just didn’t want to disappoint him or hurt him. I lied when I said Dimitri hadn’t asked me to the Ball. He _did_. I just said no, because I knew it would upset Tobias…’ She straightened, smoothing her dress. ‘I’ll talk to him tonight. Clear it all up.’  
  
‘You’re just as bad as him!’ Cal stabbed an accusing, frantic finger. ‘You don’t have to fancy him, but you’re just as inept as he is! You couldn’t have done this sooner? And, you know, gone with someone you _like_?’  
  
‘I like Tobias! But not like that! I was going to sort it out, but then this bloody _Ball_ came up!’ She tossed her hands in the air. ‘I’ll find a way. And he’ll get over it. He’s the detached and unemotional one, remember?’  
  
‘I think you’re selling him short,’ said Cal stubbornly. ‘I’ve seen him the last few days. Just… let him down gently, okay?’ He looked down at the Recording Orb in his hand sadly, then lifted it. ‘Now, I’m going to act like I’ve just come in, and you’re going to play up for the Orb and act all pre-Ball-y, and we’re going to pretend we didn’t have _this_ conversation, either.’

 

§

  
  
‘Ah! Mister O’Neal and Miss Fielding! Good to see there are such good relations with the Hufflepuff Quidditch team!’ Gabriel gushed more than Cal thought necessary as Connor O’Neal and Beatrix Fielding approached the punch bowl, which had become the hunting ground of Team Recording Orb (they couldn’t agree on a better name - Gabriel wanted Team Chimera, Cal wanted Hogwarts Now!).  
  
‘Drop dead, Doyle.’ Normally, snipes like that at Gabriel were absolutely sincere, but O’Neal looked in too good a mood. He poured a pair of glasses of punch, and eyed the Recording Orb. ‘What is _that_?’  
  
‘Recording for posterity, Connor.’ Cal lifted it. ‘We’ll have a memory of the night, look back on it in ten years, have a right giggle. Don’t worry, it’s not for mocking. It’d be Bletchley who’d do that, and he’s too busy trying to seduce Drake.’ He jerked a thumb at the dance floor.  
  
O’Neal actually grinned. ‘That’s a cool idea.’  
  
‘It is,’ Fielding agreed. ‘I think it’s sweet, Caldwyn. We’ll have something to remember all this by.’  
  
Cal flinched at the use of his full name, but Beatrix Fielding was too distracted by leaning up to kiss O’Neal on the cheek in what he was pretty sure was a show for the Orb. ‘I am nice. I’m the nice Slytherin. Though I’m still a _Slytherin_ , so I have to have something sneaky in mind. When _you_ , Connor, are a world-famous Quidditch star and you, Beatrix, are the greatest Obliviator of all time, I will be made _rich_ off this.’  
  
‘He means by selling this to the press,’ said Gabe. ‘I’ll just blackmail you if you do something you’ll regret later. Or you could pay us now to destroy it?’  
  
O’Neal gave him another dismissive look, then drained the punch. ‘You didn’t put anything in this, did you?’ Gabriel shook his head.  
  
‘Huh, pity,’ Fielding muttered, and the pair left.  
  
Gabriel turned to Cal, indignant. ‘I thought we decided _I_ could present them and ask them what a lovely evening they were having, just to confuse them when I was nice? They only wanted to talk to you!’  
  
‘You talked about blackmailing them. This is why I’m the friendly one. No offence, Gabe, but they don’t _like_ you. Most non-Slytherins don’t.’  
  
‘And Slytherins, for that matter.’ He gave an indifferent smirk, and stuck out his hand. ‘Fine, give me the Orb. You can be the charming one. But I want my share in the blackmailing money.’  
  
‘I was kidding about that.’  
  
‘Not when I have the Orb, you’re not.’  
  
So they lurked by the drinks table, feeling a little stupid in their dress robes without a partner in sight, and ploughed their way through the punch bowl. There was nobody to dance _with_ in the rolling revelry of the Yule Ball, so they lunged at anyone who came their way and demanded five minutes of their time. Sometimes, students were keen to get a snippet of the night recorded. Others, less so. Some were just unhappy once the speaking started.  
  
‘So,’ chirped up Cal as he’d cornered Nick Wilson and Jen Riley of Gryffindor. ‘Wilson, how much _did_ you charm Riley here into going out with you?’  
  
Wilson looked suspicious. ‘I _asked_ her -’  
  
‘I mean, was it a Confounding Charm or something more powerful?’  
  
‘Hey -’  
  
‘If it’s something more hefty, are there words we should avoid? If I say “longitude” or “parsley” is she going to snap out of it and start screaming?’  
  
By then, Gabriel was laughing so hard he couldn’t hold the Recording Orb straight, and Wilson left in a huff with a Jen Riley on his heels Cal would swear blind was fighting a smile. They might be the nicer Slytherins, but sometimes their peace accord with the Gryffindors could be more like a cold war.  
  
They were better behaved with others. They interrogated Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang, and Gabriel leered at the latter while Cal tried to get the former to admit that he wanted someone to ‘dispose’ of Viktor Krum. All in the name of Hogwarts’ honour, of course. Krum stood with a very pretty girl that Cal didn’t recognise, but Diggory swore blind she was one of Potter’s friends. As she wasn’t the Weasley, she had to be the mad-haired bookish one, though this seemed unlikely. It struck Cal as cruel of Diggory to make such jokes about his competitors’ friends, mocking them like that when they blatantly couldn’t end up looking _that_ good.  
  
Once Diggory and Chang were gone, Cal peered across the dance floor. ‘Do you really think that’s what’s-her-face? What _is_ her name?’  
  
‘Granger. And, I dunno, mate.’ Gabriel squinted over his shoulder. ‘Talk about coming out of your shell. I should have baked a cake.’  
  
Cal was too bewildered to realise Gabriel was using a Muggle reference he’d likely imprinted on him before. ‘Damn straight. She’s looking… I don’t know.’  
  
‘The word you’re looking for, my friend,’ said Gabriel, leering in the direction of Possibly-Granger, ‘is _hot_ , or maybe… hell, what’s Tobias doing?’  
  
‘That’s four words…’ Cal turned to where Gabriel was now looking. Tobias and Tanith had been dancing for the last few songs, Tobias demonstrating his mother’s lessons once upon a time had been put to good use. Tanith looked like she was actually having a good time. But now he was dragging her off the floor to a corner which had ‘Quiet Word’ written all over it.  
  
‘Did you talk to Tanith?’ Gabriel bit his lip, and anxiety squirmed in Cal’s gut. Gabriel was _always_ confident about everything. If a horde of Death Eaters suddenly charged into the Great Hall and started spraying spells, he would probably stand at the periphery with a tall drink and critique their technique.  
  
‘Yeah.’ Cal sipped his punch, brow furrowing. ‘She said she had it in hand. And that we should give her more credit, that she’s not as blind as we thought. Then again, _I_ didn’t know until the other week.’  
  
‘Yes, but Tanith has paid attention to matters _other_ than how to sabotage Durmstrang in the Tournament. She’s not dumb. I guess we should have figured she’d notice what Tobias is thinking when it’s _about_ her. He’s not exactly subtle when it comes to his feelings. What _does_ she think?’  
  
‘She said she doesn’t feel the same way about him. That he’s just a friend, like you or me.’  
  
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. ‘Let’s not kid ourselves. Even without him fancying the hell out of her, he’s _not_ a friend to her like you or me. Those two have always had their thing going. Bonding over marauding basilisks. Prefect duties. Actually giving a damn about wider issues. They’re not like us mere mortals, Caldwyn. They’re the idealists throwing themselves into impossible situations.’  
  
‘And Tobias definitely is, if Tanith doesn’t feel that way about him.’  
  
‘So why did she say yes to the ball invite? Why didn’t she go with Radimir? Girls love him, and he’s been chasing Tanith since he _got_ here.’ Gabriel snorted. ‘And she’s been giving him attention back! That’s why Tobias has been having a _fit_ every time he’s seen the bugger.’  
  
‘There’s attention, and then there’s being drooled on. She can like him without liking him that much. But she said she turned Radimir down to not hurt Toby’s feelings.’  
  
‘So.’ Gabriel blew his fringe out of his eyes. ‘She knows he likes her. She doesn’t feel the same way. She said _yes_ to an invitation to _the_ romantic event of our Hogwarts life. And Tobias is supposed to take this as discouragement?’  
  
Cal hesitated. The situation was starting to fizz in his head, make his thoughts sluggish, and he’d been leaning on the table for the last while. ‘She… said she’d let him down gently?’  
  
‘Gently? This is _Cole_! Grey will be throwing himself off the Astronomy Tower by midnight!’ Gabriel rounded on him. ‘Why did you let her? We should be taking Tobias aside, explaining the situation, and then let them both pretend that _nothing_ happened! Now it’ll be a horrible confrontation scarring him for life and rendering Tanith so guilt-ridden she can’t look him in the eye!’ The panic was now hitting Gabriel, which only augmented the tension in Cal’s gut. Never before had he seen something which could make the unflappable Gabriel Doyle flap.  
  
‘That _would_ make more sense, wouldn’t it.’ Cal smacked him on the arm. ‘Why didn’t you _tell_ me to do that?’  
  
‘I thought Tanith liked him! I’m a bloke! I’m not _meant_ to tell these things! But Tobias had a _huge_ sign on his chest saying, “I love Tanith Cole,” and I figured _she_ _’d_ read it too, and the reason she hadn’t hexed him into oblivion was because she felt the same way!’  
  
‘Shit.’ Cal looked at the Quiet Word Corner. ‘We gotta stop that.’ They had deliberated for a while, but Cal knew Tobias. There was no way he could jump to a point like a confession of his feelings without dancing about the topic. Hope still sprang in his chest as he and Gabriel burst into action, lunging away from the table.  
  
Except his legs were wobbly, and then he was falling, and had to clutch at Gabriel to keep his feet. Only Gabriel swayed, too, and wasn’t strong enough to keep up a burly Quidditch player. The two of them flew across the dance floor before collapsing into a heap, sending dancers scattering, and ending up in a pile of tangled limbs and dazed thoughts.  
  
Cal groaned as he rose onto his elbows, looking down at Gabriel. ‘Sorry,’ he croaked. Slowly the two began to clamber to their feet, leaning on each other for support, limbs unresponsive and unhelpful. ‘Oh, my head’s spinning.’  
  
‘Yeah.’ Gabriel seemed better off, but he had to keep Cal upright, and so the two were a swaying mass as they staggered away from the dance floor, mumbling apologies, until they made it to the chairs next to the punch bowl, their mission forgotten.  
  
Cal refilled their abandoned glasses. ‘It’s just hot in here. That’s what it is. It’s making us light-headed. We’ll sit for a second, relax, and we’ll be okay. Have a drink.’ He passed a beaker.  
  
Gabriel lifted it to its lips - then stopped, eyeing the liquid. ‘Caldwyn. You sure this isn’t spiked?’  
  
‘Um.’ Cal looked into his glass. ‘Oh.’ It wasn’t that he didn’t know what being drunk felt like. But he’d not known he’d been having booze, so he’d not thought about feeling light-headed, not expected his limbs to react sluggishly. Now he stopped and _thought_ about it, he probably wasn’t just stressed and overheated.  
  
‘Should we interrogate the Weasley twins?’ Gabe wondered.  
  
‘I don’t know. Where are they? Can we stand enough to go find them? Can we interrogate them without _throwing up_ on them? I bet there’s a charm on this as well as a drink. Maybe _instead_ of a drink.’  
  
‘You think you’re going to throw up?’ Gabriel sounded concerned, and Cal was surprised until he saw his friend draw the hem of his dress robes back, his priorities then clear.  
  
‘No, I’m okay. I think.’ Cal pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘What were we doing before this?’  
  
‘Apparently, throwing fuel on the fire of the rumours that we’re gay,’ sighed Gabriel.  
  
‘ _What_?’ Cal went to rise, but fell down heavily once again. He felt heat rise to his cheeks as gazes turned in their direction, and he leaned in to hiss at Gabriel. ‘…what?’  
  
‘Yeah, people think we’re gay,’ said Gabriel, looking supremely unconcerned. ‘No partner, hanging with each other all night, and we’re _always_ the two together when Cole and Grey are doing their thing.’  
  
‘Nobody says this about Montague and Pucey.’  
  
‘Yeah, but they have partners tonight. And I think people see all that horrible tension with Cole and Grey and so assume the two of _us_ have to have our share of tension, too.’  
  
Cal sagged, and reached for his beaker again, taking a hefty swig. ‘Come on. Let’s go save Tanith and Tobias from themselves. Either by stopping him, or by convincing her he’s the sexiest man alive and she wants his nerdy body.’  
  
But the moment the mission statement was out of his mouth, he spotted Tobias weaving his way through the crowd, moving around the outskirts of the dance floor, alone. He slouched to the chairs next to them and slumped down. ‘…hey, guys.’  
  
‘Crashed and burned?’ Gabriel’s voice was far too chirpy.  
  
Cal stomped on his foot. ‘What happened?’ He passed Tobias a beaker of spiked punch. He looked like he needed it.  
  
Tobias just clutched the cup, not drinking it, staring into the crowd. ‘Sat her down. Made some mumbling, eloquent declaration of how I’d started to see her in a new light since the end of last year?’  
  
‘ _That_ recently?’ said Gabriel, and got his foot stomped on again.  
  
‘…and then I was stupid enough to take her silence as… I don’t know. No news is good news, right?’ Tobias pressed on like he’d not heard Gabriel, and his voice dropped an octave, hollow and mortified. ‘That was when I tried to kiss her.’  
  
‘Oh, no,’ Cal groaned.  
  
‘Yep.’ Tobias’ voice remained flat, emotionless. ‘She jumped up, said I was just her friend, only her friend, she valued me as a friend and nothing more. Then she said she’d come to the Ball with me because she felt _sorry_ to me.’ Now he drank, draining the beaker in one, and seemed unperturbed by the flavour. ‘She went back to the common room.’  
  
‘Sorry for you?’ Cal echoed. That sounded like the worst possible interpretation of what Tanith had told him earlier; or possibly she’d just expressed herself _that_ badly. He put down his beaker. ‘I feel - you know, I feel rotten. Think I might go to bed, too. Or my head’s going to explode.’  
  
‘I don’t think I _can_ sleep,’ droned Tobias, somehow making a monotone melodramatic. ‘I just - I really thought this was - and now I’ve ruined _everything_.’  
  
‘It’ll be alright,’ said Gabriel, finally speaking without earning himself a foot-stomping. ‘You just both need to agree to act like tonight never happened. And then you can forget about it all. And get over her. Plenty more fish in the sea.’  
  
‘I don’t want those fish.’ Tobias stared at his empty beaker, but sighed, shoulders slumping. ‘Yeah. You’re right. I mean, if she doesn’t like me back, there’s not much I can do, is there? I just have to get over her.’ He lifted his gaze blearily. ‘What did you two smuggle in here? I heard you fall over from across the room.’  
  
‘Oh,’ said Cal. ‘There’s something in the punch. I don’t think it’s just booze, I think it’s charmed, too.’  
  
‘And you gave it to me?’  
  
‘You looked like you needed it,’ said Gabriel, indifferent.  
  
‘Bastards,’ said Tobias, sounding more like his old self. He gave the beaker, and its contents, an inquisitive glance and sniff. ‘Could be a mild Confundus charm. It can replicate the light-headed sensation of alcohol. With a little booze, it could augment the effects…’  
  
‘Weasley twins,’ Gabriel cursed. ‘Can you give them detention?’  
  
‘Sure, if you feel like fishing me out of the lake after.’ Tobias got to his feet with a groan. ‘Come on. Sod tonight, let’s go back. I’ll work on an apology to Tanith and we can take it from there. Forget this ever happened.’ His brow knotted. ‘Radimir better stay away from her, though.’  
  
Cal didn’t have a good answer to that. He suspected that Tanith would keep Dimitri Radimir, charming Durmstrang student, at bay. If only because she wouldn’t want to hurt Tobias, but there was no way of telling him that without offending his fractured pride even more. Or possibly letting on that he’d anticipated him crashing and burning and done nothing to stop it, despite his best efforts.  
  
So they slumped to Common Room, slow but steady. The lower years had gone to bed, and almost everyone else was still in the Great Hall enjoying the Ball, so it was with a forlorn, miserable sense of failure that the three slumped past the dimmed sconces and empty armchairs and headed for the dormitory. Cal waved the other two on. ‘I’ll be up in a minute.’  
  
They all knew he meant to talk to Tanith, so didn’t stop him as he took the other door. Apprehension twisted and rose like the stairwell as he climbed for the right room, and not apprehension for what would happen between her and Tobias. He was Tanith’s friend, yes, but it was an easy friendship, of Quidditch and Gryffindor baiting and complaining about homework. Deeper, more emotional matters had always been between her and Tobias, not him. But now Tobias _was_ the emotional matter, and Gabriel would be no use to anyone on such a topic.  
  
So it fell to him, and he had no idea what he was going to do. He knocked on the door.  
  
‘Who is it?’ Tanith’s voice was more muffled than it should have been.  
  
‘S’me.’ There was a mumble he took for summons, so he tried the door and it opened. And stopped dead in the doorway when he saw Tanith curled up on her bed, eyes puffy and red.  
  
His throat tightened. Tanith had been crying. Tanith, who didn’t bat an eyelid at anything, who had seemed only disconcerted at a Dark Mark rising to the sky again. Her solidity of spirit wasn’t the same as Gabriel’s - he seemed to simply not _care_ , while she was resilient, but it was equally distressing to see her in distress.  
  
‘You alright?’ he asked, voice feeling awkward, gruff, stupid. But his feet dragged him from the door to the bed, and he pulled up a stool next to her. Sitting on the bed sounded an awful lot like an intrusion.  
  
She straightened, drawing her legs up to wrap her arms around them and rest her chin on her knees. Her robes were a crinkled mess, and the diamond necklace had been put on the bedside table. ‘No.’  
  
‘Tobias is - he’s not happy.’ Cal shifted his weight. ‘But you know him. He’ll pull through.’  
  
‘You didn’t see the look in his eyes. He looked like I’d just kicked him in the stomach and called him a worthless half-breed I never wanted to see again. Worse. It was like I’d extinguished that little flame of excitement he always seems to have.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I never wanted to hurt him.’  
  
For one terrifying moment he thought she was going to cry again. He stared at his hands. ‘Of course you didn’t. You’re not that horrid. But this was inevitable, nobody was going to get through this free and easily, and it’s done. He knows. It might not be nice, but he knows, and it’s better this way.’  
  
‘But I’ve ruined _everything_!’ A sob finally caught her voice, and some instinct Cal hadn’t realised he had made him shift onto the bed next to her, though he didn’t move further. ‘I don’t know if he’ll be able to even _look_ at me in the morning! And I don’t like him that way, but he’s my friend, and I _need_ him as my friend…’  
  
Cal bit his lip and forced himself to lift his arm, put it around her shoulder. The gesture felt forced, awkward, and there was a flicker in Tanith’s expression as she felt his hand on her - but then she relaxed, leaned against him, and what had been an uncertain display became more comfortable, genuine reassurance. _That wasn_ _’t too hard, now, was it?_ He drew a deep breath. ‘You know what he’s like; he bounces back. So you’re going to get up in the morning, smile at him, and talk about normal things. Pretend _nothing happened_. He’ll thank you for it.’  
  
‘I _do_ want to forget it ever happened,’ Tanith mumbled against his side.  
  
‘So does he. So you don’t _let_ it ruin anything. He’ll sort himself out. You two just keep being yourselves and be friends. No romance is worth the price of friendship.’ He squeezed her shoulder.  
  
‘You read that in a book somewhere.’  
  
He smiled. If she was being sardonic at him, she had to be feeling better. ‘It’s true. Are you going to be okay here?’  
  
‘Yeah.’ She pulled away, scrubbed her face one last time, smearing the makeup she’d probably had Ariane’s help putting on. He hadn’t noticed it before now, with the streaks at her eyes. ‘Thanks, Cal. You’re a good friend, too - you all are. I don’t tell you that enough.’  
  
His smile turned sheepish. ‘Okay, go back to being haughty Tanith, because this is freaking me out.’  
  
She laughed, and he felt warmer for causing that, then patted him on the arm. It was a reassurance and a dismissal all at once. ‘Alright, get out, you great oaf. I don’t want you leering at me for the rest of the night.’  
  
‘That’s more like it.’ He got to his feet, grinning, and headed for the door. But he hesitated when she stood and he watched her a moment, dress crumpled, hair tangled, makeup smeared. He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘You know - you’ve looked great tonight. I didn’t say that just to be silly. I’m sorry you didn’t get to go with someone you _like_ -like.’  
  
Tanith’s expression grew tight at the edges, like the mask was being tugged. ‘Thanks, Cal,’ she said, and though her voice was low he suspected this was still a dismissal, still a hiding of her true feelings, and with a wince and a nod he ducked out the room and shut the door behind him.  
  
It wasn’t over. He’d helped, he knew he’d helped, but they still all needed to forget it had happened, lick the wounds to their feelings and pride, and move on.  
  
And Cal had to find who’d spiked the punch.


	5. September 1st, 1993 – Fourth Year

‘…and you’ve remembered all the books you’ll need?’  
  
‘Yes, Mum.’  
  
‘Even that old Arithmancy one I saw sticking out from under your bed? Did you get it?’  
  
‘Yes!’  
  
‘And Tibs? You have all of his food?’  
  
‘Mum, it’s not like they don’t _provide_ pet food at Hogwarts.’ Tobias rolled his eyes as he and his mother came to a halt on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, dragging their way through the storm of chaos and crowds around them. It was twenty to eleven and there was no need to rush; they both knew this routine.  
  
Melissa Hart looked at her only son. ‘It’s just as well, because you’d forget to feed him otherwise.’ She reached for the cage atop Tobias’ trolley to scratch the yowling grey-and-black tabby cat behind the ears.  
  
‘That’s not true!’  
  
‘No? So how is it he always lurks around _me_ during the holidays?’  
  
‘He’s melodramatic! He always acts like he’ll _die_ if you don’t immediately give him attention or food! And you give him milk and I don’t,’ Tobias grumbled. ‘It’s bad for him, all the cat books say that.’  
  
‘He’s a cat. Cats like milk.’  
  
‘Yes, but what one “likes” isn’t always what one should get,’ Tobias mused, looking up and down the platform, studying the crowd for familiar faces.  
  
‘My son has grown up a cynic,’ she sighed. ‘You’ll be careful, though, you hear me? Sirius Black on the loose, Dementors looking for him…’  
  
‘Oh, I’ll be at _Hogwarts_. It’s safe. It’s _you_ I’m worried about!’ The fourteen year-old boy turned to his mother, brow furrowing.  
  
‘ _I_ will be at Gringotts. If anywhere’s safer, it’s there. But it’s my job to fuss. Maybe Sirius Black won’t be a problem, but I know last year was difficult. You had detentions, Toby, you _never_ had detentions before. For _hexing_ people.’  
  
Tobias kicked the concrete. ‘They deserved it,’ he muttered. He wasn’t going to point out that magically tying Ed Montague’s bootlaces together was technically a charm, not a hex. He’d paid for it at the hands of more than Snape.  
  
‘You can’t rise to their words.’ She reached for his arm. ‘I know it’s difficult. A part of me wishes you’d been a Ravenclaw. It would have been easier. But I’m proud of you, and you are doing so _well_ at school. The best way to prove them wrong is to ignore them and keep on doing well, you understand?’  
  
‘They won’t care if I do well. But… I get it, Mum.’ Tobias shrugged. ‘I want a prefect badge, so I’ve got to make sure I behave. No more run-ins with Gryffindors _or_ Slytherins. I promise.’  
  
‘Good. Not that I don’t approve of the old inter-House warfare traditions being observed, but I _do not_ want you in any more trouble. So if you honestly _can_ _’t_ help yourself, and if you _have_ to make trouble with the Gryffindors, for Merlin’s sake don’t get caught!’  
  
‘Is that the Hart family motto?’ Tobias’ lips twisted. ‘If you can’t help yourself, don’t get caught?’  
  
‘I couldn’t possibly comment. But I suggest you get a move on, or the Hufflepuffs will steal all the compartments. I remember what _they_ _’re_ like, too.’ She gave the train a contemplative glance.  
  
They hugged, and Tobias was reminded that he was, by now, taller than his mother. In his mind he never was; in his mind she was the looming figure of authority and comfort, but there’d been growth spurt over the last year and now he had a couple of inches on her.  
  
Going away always made him feel guilty. She had her work and her friends and a busy life, but he knew that he was leaving her to an empty home in a Muggle town. And he knew that was for him. For him, she’d made sure he got a good education in a good Muggle primary school; for him, she’d made sure he grew up with a foot in both cultures, and this had been the only way. She was a pureblood, she had not the knowledge or experience to give him any understanding of the Muggle world that had been his father’s.  
  
He’d concluded he belonged only in the magical world, not in the Muggle one where his ways and beliefs and the things he took for granted were considered “strange,” but lessons had been learnt, an understanding he couldn’t forget. And more and more had he understood what his mother sacrificed for him, what she sacrificed to marry his father, and what she’d lost when he’d died. For years it had been just him and her against both worlds. Hogwarts changed that.  
  
When he pulled back, she wore that too-broad smile he knew meant she was trying to not cry. Aware they’d both prefer to avoid such an emotional parting, he broke away to pick up his trunk and Tiberius’ cage, stepped back. ‘I’ll write by the end of the week.’  
  
Melissa nodded, her expression settling into one of more genuine control. ‘I’ll reply with Vesna, so you don’t have to use the school owls all the time. You really _could_ bring her if you wanted…’  
  
‘She’d never get on with Tibs. It’s fine, she hangs around the Owlery for a few days, so I’ll have time to write. She’s happy to spend time with either of us.’ They had several family owls, with his mother’s regular and extensive correspondence with work.  
  
They finished their farewells and he headed for the train, though he didn’t get to the nearest door before he was intercepted by a familiar, keen shape. ‘Grey! Freedom is upon us!’  
  
Gabriel wasn’t usually this cheerful about anything, not even the start of a new year, and Tobias gave him a suspicious look. He was already in uniform, carrying his tidy, smart trunk which put Tobias’ ragged luggage to shame, spotless and presentable save his dire need of a haircut.  
  
‘Oh, yes,’ drawled Tobias. ‘Liberty, except for teachers, Filch, social expectations.’  
  
‘You make it sound so difficult to evade.’  
  
‘Sure, it’s easy. If you can turn invisible.’  
  
Gabriel gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes as he hauled his trunk onto the train. ‘Compared to my parents, this is an improvement. They’d see me even if I _did_ have an invisibility cloak. Which I don’t. Do you?’  
  
‘I’d have mentioned that by now…’  
  
‘Figured I’d ask. You’re the mysterious one, remember?’ And then he was on the train and trundling down the corridors before Tobias could answer.  
  
‘I thought that was you,’ Tobias muttered as he wrestled his own luggage up behind him. Another glance at the platform confirmed what he’d thought; there was no sign of Gabriel’s parents. He’d never even met his mother, and his father had been a stern shape at the platform the previous two years, berating Gabriel for daring to seem enthusiastic about getting away - and no wonder he’d been so enthusiastic under such a severe gaze.  
  
‘Are you going to help me with this?’ A sharp voice cut through his search and contemplation, dry and familiar. ‘Or just stand and stare gormlessly?’  
  
He blinked down at Tanith, stood at the foot of the steps with her own luggage. ‘So you’re in a good mood. _Hi_ , Tanith, _lovely_ to see you, I had a _great_ summer.’ Despite himself he reached for her trunk and helped wrangle it onto the train, though not without a grunt at the effort. What she put in here to make it weigh that much, he’d never know.  
  
Tanith smirked as she hopped up after him. ‘I’m sure it wasn’t. I’m sure you’ve been here waiting for me to come along and brighten your life.’  
  
‘Actually, Gabe was here a moment ago and… vanished. This way.’ He grabbed the trunk and Tibs’ cage, then led her down the corridors after wherever Gabriel had gone. The train wasn’t that full yet, most people still bidding their farewells on the platform. There weren’t too many people to push by, not too many feet trying to trip them or wands itching for a hex at a passing Slytherin. It made for an unusually quiet trip.  
  
Until Nick Wilson stepped out from a compartment, joined by his trusty shadow Cormac McLaggen, to block Tobias’ path. ‘ _Grey_. So good to see you.’  
  
He’d appeared so suddenly that Tobias almost walked into him. Wilson, unlike McLaggen, wasn’t bigger than him, but he’d always been the brighter of the two. Less aggressive, but he knew when to pick his battles. Tobias groaned. ‘Wilson, I’m just trying to get to a compartment -’  
  
‘Yeah, we saw Doyle and Brynmor down the way.’ Wilson jerked his thumb over his shoulder, but Tobias couldn’t see either of them. ‘A good way down. Guess that puts you on your own.’  
  
Tanith looked down and poked herself. ‘Merlin, I’m invisible.’  
  
‘No smart-mouth Doyle to take the lead, no big man Brynmor to provide muscle,’ Wilson continued. ‘So it’s weird to see you like this, face to face. Normally you’re just leaning from behind them, going “yeah,” like a coward.’  
  
Tobias raised an eyebrow. ‘You mean, like McLaggen’s doing right now?’  
  
‘I swear, I’m still here,’ Tanith muttered, ‘but if I’m wrong, two guys squaring off against one shouldn’t throw around comments of cowardice.’  
  
He really, really wished Tanith wasn’t here. She didn’t understand these altercations. Boys weren’t like girls, who sniped with words and trickery and politics. Boys were in your face, ready to throw a punch, ready to slam him into a door, and Tobias was under no illusions that Wilson alone could take him. With McLaggen’s help, he’d be lucky if he didn’t end up stuck in a luggage rack for the whole journey.  
  
Of course, he could go for his wand, even if it was still two-on-one, but that just Wasn’t Done. If the confrontation started physically, it ended physically, or you were a coward who couldn’t stick up for himself; and worse, you made it more likely prefects and teachers would come down on everyone’s heads. McLaggen and Wilson were judicious in this confrontation; they had about ten minutes before the train would fill up, and most of the prefects would be in their carriage, not out here.  
  
‘Cole,’ said Wilson, not looking at her, ‘Piss off, or go fetch help if you really want. We don’t need much time.’ There was no wait for a reply before he grabbed Tobias by the shoulder and slammed him into the wall.  
  
Tobias grunted as the wind was knocked from his lungs, glasses askew at the impact, and the world shattered into random blurs and pockets of clarity. ‘Hey -’  
  
The worst thing was that he couldn’t say for sure what had caused this. Opportunity, surely, but there had been so many offences, back and forth, that he couldn’t recall which had been the last altercation, if they’d won, what they’d done. It really should have been Ed Montague, Miles Bletchley, Adrian Pucey, all of them Slytherin fourth years happy to deride Wilson’s Muggle-born heritage, who were their targets. But once upon a time some uppity Slytherin had said something to an uppity Gryffindor and now here he was, pinned against a wall by a boy stronger than him, being loomed over by another _way_ bigger than him.  
  
If he were Cal, he’d have knocked Wilson’s arm away, squared off against them both and given them a run for their money before he was taken down. If he were Gabriel, he’d have some cutting comment to make which wouldn’t change the outcome, but would make it a Pyhrric victory (even if they didn’t know what that was). But he wasn’t either of them, and so all he could do was grab Nick’s wrist, struggle impotently, and brace himself for what came next.  
  
‘I’m warning you -’ But anything Tanith had to say was lost when Wilson planted his fist in Tobias’ gut.  
  
He doubled over, his glasses falling off, pain and breathlessness flashing through him, and so he was only dimly aware of Wilson stepping back, of McLaggen looming over him for his turn - of more yelling, of Tiberius, still in his cage, yowling away -  
  
And then a definite _yelp_.  
  
 _Oh, good,_ he thought as he clutched at his gut and fought to keep his feet. _Cal and Gabe_ -  
  
‘That’s not _fair_!’ There was, of all things, a _whine_ to McLaggen’s voice, and as clarity slowly crept back into Tobias’ awareness, he realised the yelp had come from Wilson, and that McLaggen wasn’t facing the way they’d been headed, after all, but Tanith. He scrabbled for his glasses.  
  
‘I don’t give a shit if it’s fair, I warned you.’ Tanith’s wand was in her hand, levelled at McLaggen’s chest. ‘Sorry to bust your bubble, but I’m not Drake _or_ Riley - I don’t step back when you boys fight, and I don’t go running for the teachers.’  
  
Tobias shoved his glasses on, and only then could he see Wilson. He was on his knees, clutching his face, and on the backs of his hands and beneath his fingers he could see boils sprouting up, hairy and _deeply_ unpleasant. He had no idea where Tanith had learnt that hex.  
  
 _So much for my promise to Mum. Five minutes is a new record._  
  
‘You can’t -’  
  
‘I bloody can, and I did,’ Tanith said, cutting off McLaggen again. ‘This stops, you hear me? Your stupid childish vendetta.’  
  
‘I’m going to tell _everyone_ that Grey needed saving by _spells_ -’  
  
Tobias groaned. That was the last thing his reputation needed.  
  
‘Sure, go ahead. And _I_ _’ll_ tell everyone that Wilson got taken out in a flat second by a girl half his size, and I’ll add you to the roster if you keep pushing it. Or nobody needs to know, and I’ll even give you the counter-curse so he stops crying.’  
  
‘ _Cormac_!’ That was Wilson, voice mangled. It had to be unpleasant, whatever he was going through, though Tobias was mostly sure Tanith wouldn’t unleash something truly dangerous.  
  
Mostly.  
  
‘Fine! _Fine_! Bitch. Piss off, take him with you.’ McLaggen gestured curtly at Tobias, before he hauled Wilson half to his feet and into the compartment.  
  
‘Bitch who beat you both,’ said Tanith, nose tilting into the air as she tucked her wand away with a flourish. ‘The counter-curse is _Abscedo_. Do try to pronounce it right, I’d hate to do Wilson _serious_ harm.’  
  
Tobias didn’t object when Tanith took him by the arm and led him down the corridor. A quick charm on their luggage had it trundling after them; a prefect would probably go spare as this was a great way to run someone over, but at this point a prefect’s intervention was already going to get them into hot water. He limped along beside her, still clutching his gut. ‘You think he’ll keep his trap shut?’  
  
‘I think it’ll spread around school,’ said Tanith, ‘because I’m going to spread it, because people are going to be _way_ more tickled by the story of “Nick Wilson was beaten up by small girl” than “Tobias Grey isn’t a manly man”.’  
  
‘I hope you’re right,’ he croaked.  
  
‘I know I’m right. You’re _not_ a manly man. And you’re _welcome_ , by the way.’  
  
He gave a wan smile. ‘Thanks. I guess I just accept those two ganging up on me as the price of the Sorting.’  
  
‘They’re idiots. They should be going after Ed or Adrian; they act like they’re lashing out against arsehole Slytherins, but the hell were they doing last year, with the Chamber of Secrets making everyone a bloody bigot or a freedom fighter, and _still_ going for you guys?’ Tanith shook her head. ‘At least we got away with it.’  
  
‘We did.’ Tobias nodded. _Guess I didn_ _’t break that promise to Mum after all._  
  
The train filled up and pulled away by the time they finally reached the compartment at the end of the carriage which Cal and Gabe had claimed, the two of them lounged on the benches. Gabriel raised a languid eyebrow and said, ‘What took you so long?’ but the moment Cal’s eyes fell on him, he lunged to his feet.  
  
‘What happened?’  
  
‘Wilson. McLaggen. I got stupidity in stereo,’ Tobias groaned, sinking onto the bench. For once Tanith handled her own luggage, and even his, into the overhead racks. He hauled Tiberius’ cage to him and stuck his fingers through the bars, trying to calm the rattled cat down before he could let him out.  
  
Cal’s gaze turned thunderous. ‘I saw them down the way. C’mon, Gabe -’  
  
Tobias lifted a hand, and Tiberius bit his finger instead of being calmed. ‘It’s fine -’  
  
‘It is _not_ , those bastards think they can jump you when you’re alone -’  
  
Tanith paused, heavy trunk braced on her shoulder, expression indignant. ‘Honest to Merlin, I’m right here.’  
  
Cal looked at her, an angry teenaged boy on his high horse about complicated boy politics a girl could _never_ understand. ‘I don’t mean that, but you don’t _count_ -’  
  
‘She hexed Wilson into the ground.’  
  
Gabriel, who didn’t care a lot about pride or unspoken rules and was the first of them to get off a sneaky hex in these confrontations, had been pretty slow to get to his feet at Cal’s summons. He beamed. Cal looked indignant. ‘You can’t -’  
  
‘Can,’ grunted Tanith, still struggling with the luggage. ‘Did. Heavy. Help.’  
  
Cal reached out with one arm and, like he was lifting foam, shoved her trunk into the overhead rack before he reached for Tobias’. He didn’t seem aware of what he was doing, helpful nature kicking into action once prompted by Tanith, who collapsed onto the bench next to Tobias. ‘They’re going to go spare,’ he said. ‘They’re going to make a _joke_ of him.’  
  
‘They won’t,’ said Tanith, leaning back and closing her eyes. ‘I’m going to make a laughing stock of them. Ariane and Melanie will love the story of Wilson downed by a girl a foot shorter than him, and those two are obnoxious enough to the Ravenclaw boys that the likes of Edgecombe will _also_ love that story, and basically they’re going to wind up looking a whole lot worse.’  
  
Gabriel laughed, rocking back and clapping his hands. ‘I love it. Never wrangle with the girls, Caldwyn. They play dirty.’  
  
Cal looked trapped, indignant, every rule he adhered to broken and yet obviously too pleased by the outcome to protest _too_ much. Finally, he threw his hands in the air and sat next to Gabriel. ‘Fine. Serves them right. You okay, mate?’ He raised his eyebrows at Tobias.  
  
Tobias nodded, the ache in his gut subsiding to dull persistence. At last he opened the cage to release Tibs, who jumped onto his lap, sank his claws into his knee in the traditional fashion, and hissed at a rather startled Cal. ‘I’ll be fine. It was just the one punch. You should see Wilson.’  
  
‘There’ll be retaliation,’ said Gabriel, looking more like he was planning than like he was worried.  
  
‘Not from the girls. Riley won’t do a damn thing, Barker and MacKenzie do what she tells them,’ said Tanith. ‘The only one with the spine to act is Bell, but her allies are the Quidditch team, and we’re not targets to them.’  
  
Cal eyeballed Tiberius. ‘He doesn’t like me.’  
  
‘He doesn’t like Gawain,’ said Tobias. At his name, Cal’s overly large hawk-owl, perched on the luggage rack above his owner, opened one sleepy, superior eye for a sweeping gaze of judgement before returning to his snoozing. ‘Or, he likes him a lot, and wants to eat him, and you don’t _let_ him.’  
  
But Tibs settled down, as did they all. Letters had been exchanged over summer, but this was the first time they’d seen each other in weeks, so there was plenty of need to catch up, to fill in the blanks and reminisce and go through what was already a ritual in only their third reunion.  
  
Three hours in, the sun was high in the sky and shining right through their window as the Hogwarts Express weaved its way across the country. The blinds were down but it was still summer, and so the compartment heated up at a rate to make both Cal and Gabriel drift off, lounged back on their bench.  
  
Tobias had long ago fished out a book to read. He’d been going through his father’s old collection over the summer, and while he’d decided he didn’t care much for the works of the Muggle Hemingway, there were others to try. Tanith had dragged out her sketchbook, which usually meant she subsided as much as she ever did into an introspective world of her own, so he was surprised when she was the one to speak up.  
  
‘What’re you reading?’  
  
He glanced up to see her dark eyes glimmering with curiosity over the sketchbook. ‘Why?’  
  
‘So I can judge you.’ She sighed. ‘I’m curious. You don’t usually read, er - what do you call them. The soft Muggle books.’  
  
‘Soft -’  
  
‘The cover, it’s card.’  
  
‘Oh. Paperbacks.’ Tobias blinked. He’d not considered before that wizards had every book bound as a thick hardbacked volume. ‘It’s a Muggle book, yeah. _To Kill a Mockingbird._ I don’t get much chance to casually read at school, so I thought I’d make the most of it, it’s only short.’  
  
‘And it’s about… killing… birds?’ She frowned. ‘Muggles are weird.’  
  
‘It’s not, it’s a metaphor. It’s about, er, lots of things, but it’s also about prejudice in the USA. You should read it.’  
  
‘Not my style.’  
  
‘Because it’s Muggle?’  
  
Tanith paused, pencil hovering over paper. ‘Yes. But I don’t _get_ Muggle stuff. The way they do things. The things they _don_ _’t_ do. I’m not - this isn’t about being judgemental. It’s like I don’t read books about 14th century wizarding Japan written by a writer who assumes the reader knows what’s going on. I _don_ _’t_ know what’s going on.’  
  
He smothered a smile at her defensive tone. Once, she wouldn’t have cared how she sounded. ‘I take your point. This isn’t so bad, though. And it’s a pretty good reminder, really, about how all people can be screwed up and prejudiced. Muggles and wizards. You should try some Muggle books.’  
  
‘You don’t read them much.’ Her gaze returned to the paper.  
  
‘Like I said, I don’t have time -’  
  
‘Yes, you do.’ She didn’t look up. ‘You just like to read in the common room and you don’t want to read a Muggle book in case someone reacts.’  
  
Tobias blinked. He hadn’t thought about that, and the worst thing was that he suspected she was right. Even if he was doing it subconsciously, he’d stopped himself from doing something he enjoyed because he didn’t want to put up with the confrontation it would cause. With a sigh, he closed the book. ‘What’re you drawing?’  
  
‘Them.’ Tanith’s gaze flickered across the compartment to where Cal and Gabriel were still lounged out, dead to the world. ‘It was this, or read the crappy magazine of my sister’s I accidentally packed.’  
  
‘They’re not moving. Surely that’s boring for a wizarding picture.’ He was provoking her intentionally, so the colour rising to her cheeks surprised him.  
  
She bit her lip. ‘Sometimes the Muggles have the right idea with static pictures - don’t you start,’ she said at his smirk. ‘Wizarding pictures _are_ all flash, style over substance. They’re about depicting something absolutely accurately. Art isn’t just about getting a precise image. Sometimes it’s about a feeling, about a moment, and the right static picture can grasp the emotion in a single heartbeat, while a wizarding picture will be all five seconds. And sometimes - sometimes you only want that heartbeat. Sometimes, when you get five seconds, you get so much in one go you get nothing.’  
  
‘My. That’s poetic. And unusual.’  
  
‘It’s only unusual if you never studied _any_ wizarding art. _I_ , however, have a _classical_ education.’ Her voice was wry, self-effacing. ‘Muggles are limited because they don’t have the choice. They can only grab the heartbeat, not the five seconds. But wizards are limited because they ignore the choice, and always pick the flashier, more magical solution.’ She was still drawing as he spoke, and so long seconds passed before she had to feel his gaze on her. Her eyes narrowed as she looked up. ‘I’m blaming you for this.’  
  
‘If I’m making you think,’ he said, ‘I’m not sorry.’  
  
‘I _think_ , Grey,’ she said, attention returning to her drawing. ‘And I think you’re sometimes a smug pillock.’  
  
Tobias just grinned, shook his head, and returned to his book.

§

  
  
‘This is stupid.’ Cal folded his arms across his chest, glaring across the compartment at Tanith. ‘Alright. Next question, if you must.’  
  
‘I must. I’m bored,’ said Tanith, and turned a page in the magazine she’d allegedly only accidentally packed. ‘But don’t worry, this is the _last_ question: “ _The only thing in your wardrobe is a slinky red dress that shows off_ all _your assets. When you get to dinner, your date can_ _’t keep his eyes off you - he’s practically drooling._ ”’  
  
‘Charming,’ Gabriel drawled, leaning against the window and watching the darkness continue to rattle past the train.  
  
‘“ _Do you, A: Accept the interest gladly. Dresses like this are all you own, so this is all according to plan. B: Act uncomfortable throughout the evening. You only wore this because you felt daring, but you_ _’ve lost your nerve now he’s staring. Or, C: Make an excuse to go to the bathroom, and try to make some last-minute adjustments to save your modesty. This really was the last thing left in your otherwise-sensible wardrobe and you didn’t have a choice.”’_  
  
Cal scowled. ‘I tell him my eyes are up _here_ , buddy, and hex him if he doesn’t listen.’  
  
‘That’s not one of the options,’ said Tanith.  
  
‘It’s new, Secret Option D.’  
  
‘You’ve chosen that every time,’ Gabriel pointed out. ‘I don’t think there’s a “Mainly Secret Option D” result.’  
  
‘Fine. A. If I’m going to be put in this position, I might as well be the one in control. It’s _my_ body, damn it, and if he don’t like it, he can shove it,’ declared Cal Brynmor, blossoming feminist.  
  
‘You do scare me, Cal,’ Gabriel muttered.  
  
‘Better than being ignored. What’s my result?’  
  
‘I’m adding up your points,’ said Tanith. ‘Don’t be so impatient.’  
  
Tobias flipped down the top of the newspaper he’d been hiding behind. ‘Sure, because we’re all _dying_ to know what kind of date Cal is.’  
  
Tanith ignored him. ‘Alright! Thirty-two points. “ _You sure are one confident girl, and no bloke_ _’s going to forget a date with you. You’re proud of what you got, you’re fun to talk to, and you always know_ exactly _what you want out of an evening. But beware: your strident manner and predatory sexuality might scare some men off._ ”’  
  
‘So,’ said Cal, eyebrow raised. ‘I’m a terror to men.’  
  
‘And women,’ mused Gabriel, ‘and everyone. So what else is new?’  
  
‘Are we done?’ asked Tobias, voice arch.  
  
‘ _Sorry_ , Grey.’ Tanith rolled her eyes. ‘We’ve still got an hour left, and we’re bored and _daring_ to entertain ourselves.’  
  
‘You mean, you were entertaining yourself at _my_ expense,’ said Cal.  
  
Gabriel raised a hand. ‘I was entertained.’  
  
Tanith huffed. ‘I’m sure the _Daily Prophet_ is _fascinating_ , Grey.’  
  
‘Yeah.’ Cal chuckled. ‘Just how hysterical _are_ they getting about Black?’  
  
‘I don’t read the _Prophet_ ,’ Tobias sneered, as if they hadn’t had this conversation a dozen times over, as if they _weren_ _’t_ consciously trying to provoke him. This was why they did it, Cal knew. He always rose to the bait. ‘I don’t touch that piece of Ministry-controlled propaganda.’  
  
Gabriel groaned. ‘Don’t get him started. I don’t want to hear more about that Muggle-loving, monster-right-demanding, House-Elf-liberating lefty crap he reads.’  
  
‘The _Clarion_ ,’ said Tobias, chin raising defiantly, ‘is an alternative paper for the wizard who thinks _outside_ of the box and doesn’t swallow everything the establishment tells him to. Fudge is an idiot and the Ministry are controlled by old, reactionary families who want to maintain the _status quo_ rather than do what’s best for wizardkind.’  
  
‘Huh,’ said Cal, assuming a deep, thoughtful frown. ‘I thought Status Quo were a band.’  
  
Tobias’ eyes flashed and Cal _beamed_ as his provocation hit home. Then the lights went out.  
  
‘What the -’  
  
Cal tried to stand, bounced right into Tobias who’d done the same - Tanith cursed in the corner and there was a moment of them all knocking into each other, jostling and shoving and yelping with surprise until they bounced back down. And then they heard the screeching of the brakes, felt the train slow down.  
  
‘We’re stopping,’ said Gabriel, who’d remained pressed against the window.  
  
‘I could _tell_ ,’ came Tanith’s arch voice in the darkness, and long seconds passed as the train came to a full halt.  
  
‘Sure,’ said Gabriel after a few heartbeats, his voice forcibly light. ‘But I bet you couldn’t tell someone’s coming on board.’  
  
‘ _Lumos_.’ That was Tobias, and worry was etched even deeper into his angular face by the sharp shadows cast by wand-light. ‘It’ll be fine, guys.’  
  
Tanith looked at him, eyebrow raising. ‘So why’re the lights out?’  
  
‘To make us _panic_?’ Cal wondered, heart in his throat, hand on his wand.  
  
‘There’ll just be something wrong with the train,’ said Tobias, voice forcibly flat. ‘You probably saw the driver getting out to sort it. It’ll be _fine_.’ He lifted his paper, wand pointed at the print to return to his reading.  
  
A shiver ran up Cal’s spine, and he snatched the paper from Tobias’ grip. ‘Then why haven’t they sent a message explaining -’  
  
‘Shh!’ That was Tanith, who was on her feet, wand in hand. ‘Did you hear that?’  
  
Cal felt another shiver, and this time he knew it wasn’t nerves as he saw his breath mist in front of him. ‘Footsteps -’  
  
‘I’ve had enough.’ Gabriel got to his feet. ‘I’m going to go ask -’ He’d stepped past Tanith to get to the door, but when he yanked it open it came with a wave of cold enough to sink into Cal’s bones and, in the looming darkness of the corridor beyond, the shimmering impression of billowing black cloth.  
  
Cal couldn’t see everything. Starlight from the window suggested the silhouette of something tall, the rushing of cold air came with the the noise of a rattling breath that sounded like it had been dragged along a washboard, and now it wasn’t just the chill that made him quiver. He knew what this was.  
  
Not that he’d ever seen a Dementor before. But he’d heard stories, and he knew fear.  
  
 _A door slamming shut. Footsteps pounding above. Utter darkness, the_ thud _of the door at the top of the cellar steps being thrown open, the flash of light, magic, the sounds of combat -_  
  
He’d been three years old when surviving Death Eaters on the run had come for him. Or, more specifically, for his foster-father, because Will Rayner had been impudent enough to not just slay his Death Eater mother and send his Death Eater father to Azkaban, but then take him in, the orphaned child. The MLE had responded quick enough that Idaeus Robb and his remaining cronies hadn’t killed anyone, hadn’t snatched away their old friend’s young son to raise him somewhere else, somewhere _proper_ , somewhere that _wasn_ _’t_ in the hands of a Muggle-born murderer of their allies. Robb was now in a cell in Azkaban, probably right next to Thanatos Brynmor, for whom he’d acted, and nothing ill had come of it.  
  
But he still remembered being three years old and terrified in the dark.  
  
‘Caldwyn! Hey!’ Gabriel’s hand was at his shoulder, and when the lights sprung on he could see his friend’s face, shrouded in more concern and worry than he’d ever seen. ‘You with us?’  
  
Cal blinked, feeling heat rushing back into him, the muggy darkness fading from his thoughts. ‘Bloody hell. What happened?’  
  
‘They’re gone.’ That was Tobias, stood in the doorway, looking up and down the corridor. Colour had drained from his face, giving him a ghoulish, sickly appearance, but Cal didn’t think _he_ _’d_ have the nerve to get up and do the checking.  
  
‘We’re moving again,’ mumbled the bundle in the corner that was Tanith under Tobias’ cloak. Her dark eyes glimmered over the edge, but Cal could see her wand was in her hand with an iron, white-knuckled grip.  
  
‘Why…’ Cal swallowed as his voice came out grating. ‘Why, _why_ are there Dementors on board?’ There was hubbub in the corner by now, Tobias in conversation with Jacob Van Roden, a Slytherin seventh-year prefects. He seemed to be doing the rounds, making sure everyone was in one piece.  
  
‘I don’t know,’ said Gabriel, who hadn’t moved away. ‘But are _you_ alright? You went a bit stiff -’  
  
‘I’m fine,’ Cal said roughly, and Gabriel dropped it, sitting again. He wasn’t fine, could feel the quaver in his chest, in his gut, but there was no judgement in the gazes of the others. Nobody was going to be unruffled by the influence of a Dementor.  
  
Tobias stepped back in and closed the compartment door. ‘They’re after Sirius Black,’ he said, voice rather bland. ‘No bloody clue why they think he’s on a train full of _children_.’ He turned to them, forcing a smile so transparent it made Cal feel worse. ‘We’re okay, though? Van Roden said someone fainted.’  
  
‘Don’t blame them,’ Cal groaned. ‘Let’s just make sure that doesn’t happen again, huh?’  
  
There were nods of assent, but they all knew, as the train trundled along on the final leg of the journey to Hogwarts, that avoiding future run-ins with Dementors, if they thought it likely Black was around Hogwarts, was entirely beyond the power of anyone.

 

§

  
  
‘Why does Snape want to see us. Snape never wants to see us.’ Tobias’ pace was so swift that Tanith struggled to keep up with him. He only noticed at every corridor junction, forced himself to slow so she could catch up, and then was off again at a break-neck speed.  
  
‘If I knew the answer,’ she huffed, ‘we wouldn’t have to _go_ , now, would we? I’d be psychic and we’d know all of Snape’s secrets and I’d ace that Divination OWL -’  
  
‘You don’t _take_ Divination.’  
  
‘If I were psychic, I wouldn’t need lessons, would I?’  
  
‘This isn’t helping,’ he muttered, turning down the stairway and taking the steps two at a time. Their lunch had been interrupted by a frantic Slytherin first-year dispatched to summon them. Cal humming the death march as they left had not been helpful, and Tobias didn’t feel like Tanith was taking this as seriously as she should. ‘It’s alright for you, Snape _likes_ you.’  
  
‘Snape doesn’t like anyone. He’s like a cat, there are people he despises, there are people he stares at with constant judgement, and then there are people he ignores. I just happen to be in the third category.’  
  
‘He praises your work,’ he muttered. ‘More than he praises mine.’  
  
He could almost hear her roll her eyes. ‘Maybe he’s noticed I work twice as hard to get half as good grades as you. Maybe he wants to encourage me.’  
  
‘This is _Snape_!’  
  
‘Shh!’ She swatted his arm as they rounded the corner, the Potions classroom looming at the end of the gloomy corridor. All other pupils had evacuated the depths of the dungeons for lunch, and so their footsteps rang out with the grisly echo of a funeral procession as they pressed on. ‘He’ll hear you.’  
  
Tobias’ lips remained firmly pressed together. He wouldn’t say he _liked_ Snape, but he didn’t dislike him, and he certainly respected him. Or feared him. It was hard to tell which. But either way, civility when summoned was of the utmost importance.  
  
The door to Snape’s office was open as they approached, and he gestured them closer like Death welcoming them into the afterlife. ‘Mister Grey. Miss Cole. Come in. Sit.’  
  
They entered. They sat. Tobias looked to Tanith out of the corner of his eyes and saw her gaze was fixed adamantly on a point just above Snape’s head. He swallowed. ‘What can we do for you, Professor?’  
  
‘The two of you are more notable Slytherins in your year,’ said Snape, steepling his fingers, beady dark eyes flickering between them. ‘Superior grades. Respected amongst your peers. Outspoken advocates of your House’s pride.’  
  
Tobias thought it was a bit much to say he was respected, but he wasn’t about to disagree. ‘Yes, sir.’  
  
‘So you can imagine I was… _concerned_ to hear rumours of an altercation between the two of you and a pair of Gryffindors on the Hogwarts Express.’  
  
Tobias again glanced to Tanith. So she _had_ put those rumours about. Neither of them had considered the possibility it would get back to the teachers - or, at least, that they’d _care_ \- but her expression remained cool, impassive. ‘There are always rumours, sir,’ she said. ‘Gryffindors thrive on them.’  
  
‘These are particularly vicious ones. On the one hand, they suggest crude and unprovoked violence from Cormac McLaggen and Nicholas Wilson. On the other, they speak of disproportionate magical retribution from yourself, Miss Cole.’  
  
Tanith raised an eyebrow. ‘Disproportionate?’ she said innocently. ‘That doesn’t sound like me, sir.’  
  
Tobias held his breath. _Don_ _’t push it._ ‘Nothing happened on the Hogwarts Express, sir. We’d have reported something like that.’  
  
‘Mn. I hope so. I will not have members of my House be targeted by Gryffindors thinking themselves on a righteous crusade, you hear me?’ Snape looked between them, and they both nodded. ‘But I am glad to hear there is nothing of substance to these reports. Even if they had started such a confrontation, even if they had been violent, I can imagine Professor McGonagall would somehow find the deployment of advanced hexes an unacceptable means of self-defence. Even _if_ McLaggen alone is probably bigger than both of you put together.’  
  
 _He knows, Christ._ Tobias bit his lip. ‘The rumours are just that, sir. Rumours.’  
  
‘Good.’ Snape leaned back in his chair. ‘I would have hated to discipline the pair of you for something like that. You are, as I said, both promising members of Slytherin House, and this time next year I will need to allocate prefect badges.’ There was a surge in Tobias’ chest, glee at the prospect Snape was dangling in front of him - then a cold, searing caution. Before he could consider this, the teacher continued. ‘I should let you leave. You have your first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson next, yes?’  
  
Tanith nodded, halfway to her feet. ‘Yes, sir. With Professor Lupin.’  
  
Tobias would have sworn a muscle at the corner of Snape’s eye twitched. ‘Hm. Well. _Do_ try to learn something. But be careful; my experience with the man has demonstrated him to be a most unacceptable teacher. He’ll be all reassurance and comfort, and impart nothing of value. Don’t be deceived by his manner; keep a close eye on him. As I said, your compatriots look to you both. Make sure you set a fine example and let Professor Lupin know he will have to provide more than his usual trite, _folksy_ wisdom to competently educate Slytherin House.’  
  
‘Uh, yes, sir.’ Tobias swallowed, bewildered, and he and Tanith almost ran out of the office when Snape waved a dismissing hand. They hurried away in silence, and it was only when they were at the stairs, confidently out of Snape’s earshot, that Tobias spoke. ‘What the hell was _that_ about?’  
  
‘He doesn’t like Lupin. Didn’t you see him at the Feast? And I heard some of the sixth-years talking about it,’ said Tanith, grimacing. ‘He doesn’t like Lupin and he wants us to make sure he’s given a hard time. Honestly, Grey, don’t you get Snape’s Deniability Code?’  
  
‘No - he doesn’t usually send me to do his dirty work.’  
  
‘Well.’ Her frown deepened. ‘Looks like we got promoted. Not to mention blackmailed.’  
  
‘Blackmailed -’  
  
‘He knows we fought McLaggen and Wilson in the train, and I think he’ll take a more serious look at the rumours if we don’t do what he asked. Oh, don’t look like _that_ , Grey, have you seen Lupin? He looks like a tramp. It’s not going to be hard to give him hell in his lessons.’  
  
Tobias rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I don’t like the idea of being bribed.’  
  
‘With the prospect of the prefect’s badge? Be flattered you’re up for consideration. I thought he’d look to Miles, for sure.’  
  
‘Miles? You thought _Miles_ was a better candidate than me?’  
  
Tanith shrugged. ‘It’s just political, Tobias.’  
  
‘You mean Miles comes from a better family than me.’ His lips thinned, and he dropped his voice as they reached the corridors now brimming with students finishing up their lunch and getting ready for afternoon classes. ‘Or was he regaling you with his talents in all those letters you’ve been exchanging over summer?’  
  
Heat rose to Tanith’s cheeks, and Tobias almost fell over. Tanith didn’t _blush,_ and yet here she was, bashful now he was trying to pin her down on this topic. ‘It was just one or two letters.’  
  
‘Except you never used to write to him. And I’ve seen you in the common room. With all those _looks_.’  
  
‘Who’s doing looks?’ That was the sweeping shapes of Cal and Gabriel, appearing as if from nowhere to join them in the corridor. Cal was grinning. ‘Snape? Snape gave you gooey looks over his desk?’  
  
‘Don’t even joke,’ sighed Tanith. ‘And _nobody_ _’s_ looking at anyone.’  
  
‘I was just pointing out she’s written a lot to Miles over summer,’ grumbled Tobias, looking to Cal for validation.  
  
It was Gabriel who answered, smacking his forehead. ‘Oh, yeah, Tanith. He was going on in the bathrooms yesterday about you being fit. Asked me if you were seeing anyone.’  
  
Cal looked scandalised. ‘Gabe!’  
  
‘What? Did I break the fucking sanctity of the boys’ bathroom?’  
  
‘I really don’t care,’ said Tanith, nose in the air, but Tobias could see the smile hovering about her lips, and he shoved his hands into his pockets as they tromped towards the Defence classroom. ‘Oh, and we’re all supposed to hate Lupin. Snape’s orders.’  
  
Cal and Gabe exchanged nonplussed glances. ‘That’ll be easy,’ said Gabriel. ‘On account of how he’s a tramp.’  
  
‘I know, right?’ Tanith gave Tobias a pointed look, but he didn’t return it as they climbed the stairs to their lesson. Nor did he return Cal’s fraught glance, punctuated by a tug on a threadbare sleeve on his robes.  
  
Neither Tobias nor Cal were from poor families. Melissa Hart was a Gringotts accounts manager; Will Rayner an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. But they were both single parents, and they didn’t ooze the wealth of the Doyles or especially the Coles. Under normal circumstances, judging Lupin because of his wealth and attire would have stuck in Tobias’ throat through principle. But today he was in a foul enough mood that permission to act out with a teacher sounded glorious.  
  
The chatter of the others washed over him as they turned the corner for the Defence classroom, finding the rest of their House lined up by the door as they waited. He saw Miles Bletchley give Tanith a grin, and elbowed to the front to loudly ask, ‘So, Lupin’s late for his first lesson?’  
  
‘We’ve still got five minutes,’ said Cal flatly. ‘Relax.’  
  
‘You’re _that_ eager for class, Grey?’ Bletchley leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest.  
  
‘I have an actual desire to sharpen my mind, Bletchley, yes. Some of us care for our grades.’  
  
Bletchley exchanged an amused glance with Montague and Pucey. ‘And some of us aren’t proud of being swots.’  
  
Tobias arched an eyebrow. ‘You were a _humble_ swot? You’ve hidden that _very_ well, Miles.’  
  
Bletchley’s grin disappeared. ‘You’re implying I’m dumb -’  
  
‘No, implication would suggest subtlety. I’m _calling_ you dumb.’  
  
The interruption came not from Tanith, snarking them down, or Cal, offering jovial words to break the tension, but Ariane Drake, sweeping up between them and running a hand down Tobias’ arm. ‘Boys, boys. Let’s not fight. We’ve been doing _so well_ sticking together after last year, no?’  
  
 _If by_ _‘sticking together’, you mean I kept my trap shut while Miles ranted about Muggle-borns…_ Had Tobias been in a better mood, he might have remembered that it was Ed Montague, not Miles Bletchley, who was the true champion of old-fashioned Slytherin values in their year. Bletchley was indifferent, as a rule - but easily led and keen for the approval of boys more vicious and vindictive than him.  
  
‘And, more importantly,’ said Tanith, finally chirping up, ‘Grey and I just spoke with Professor Snape, and he had some things to say -’  
  
‘Messages,’ came a tired, but commanding voice from down the corridor, and they all turned to see the Professor Lupin approach, ‘can wait until after the lesson. Even if they’re from Professor Snape. I will require your attention and your patience today. Now, if you’ll follow me.’  
  
Tanith raised an eyebrow as he carried on down the corridor and gestured for them to follow. ‘Er, Professor, _this_ is our classroom.’  
  
‘Well noticed, Tanith. We will not be beginning our lesson here. An opportunity’s come up I’m eager for you to make the most of.’  
  
She grumbled as she slunk back next to Tobias in the procession of following Slytherins. ‘Ooh, listen to _me_ ,’ she cooed under her breath, mocking tone not at all sounding like Lupin’s warm drawl. ‘I make sure to learn the names of all of my students before class.’  
  
‘Yeah.’ Tobias couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice. ‘What a prick.’  
  
She glared at him. ‘You heard Snape. I was going to brief the others, but what where you doing, taunting Miles?’  
  
Once upon a time he’d have remained _Bletchley_ to her, like Montague and Pucey. Even he was ‘Grey’, more often than not. He shrugged. ‘He started it. Unless you want to side with him over me.’  
  
‘It’s not about _sides_ ,’ said Tanith, sticking her nose in the air and stepping up to join Cal and Gabe, body language blatantly discouraging him from following.  
  
Tobias had barely glared at her back before he was flanked by Ariane Drake and Melanie Larkin, both grinning like Cheshire Cats. ‘ _Toby_ ,’ Drake cooed. ‘Poor, poor Toby -’  
  
‘What _are_ you going on about?’  
  
‘She likes him, you know,’ said Larkin, much more to-the-point, and he didn’t like the way she studied his face as she delivered the news. ‘Tries to hide it, ‘cos she’s _Cole_ , but she does.’  
  
‘Yeah? So?’ He ground his teeth together.  
  
‘You shouldn’t let it bother you,’ said Drake.  
  
‘It doesn’t bother me,’ Tobias lied. ‘I just think she can do better. Miles is a lout. I’m looking out for her.’  
  
‘And I can see,’ said Larkin, ‘that she appreciates that.’  
  
Melanie Larkin was too sardonic for her own good, he decided, but before he could summon a response they were climbing the steps to the staffroom, and Tobias was stunned into silence. The room was empty, though littered with the teacups and sandwiches left by teachers retiring to their sanctum over lunchtime, and he couldn’t help but step to the front. ‘Why are we here, sir?’  
  
Lupin turned and gave him a warm smile. It wasn’t like Snape’s forced grimaces, unpleasant and demanding loyalty regardless. ‘I’m aware that last year, under the tuition of Professor Lockhart, your curriculum was curses and counter-curses. I’m also aware that there may be gaps in your knowledge as a result of… sub-standard teaching. You may have perfected glamour charms under his attentive care, but these will not protect you in real danger.’  
  
Despite himself, Tobias chuckled. Tanith, edging next to him, elbowed him in the ribs.  
  
‘We’ll be spending a few weeks filling in those gaps and developing what you know,’ Lupin continued, ‘and I know you did a lot on dark creatures with Professor Quirrell. But hands-on experience is difficult to come by. That sort of practice, I have found, is the most valuable of all.’ He stepped back and, with a flourish, gestured to the wardrobe stood in the corner of the staffroom.  
  
‘Oh _no_!’ Gabriel somehow managed to deadpan in a gasp. ‘It’s an evil wardrobe.’  
  
Lupin smiled. ‘While it might be a bit frightful, Gabriel, we’re more interested in what’s _inside:_ namely, a Boggart. I asked for it to be left here when it was found; it’s too good a teaching opportunity to pass up. I’m assuming, from the looks on your faces, that you know the spell you need?’  
  
‘ _Riddikulus_ ,’ sighed Tanith. ‘Professor Quirrell _did_ cover this with us, sir.’  
  
‘Indeed, but have you put that knowledge to the test? It’s one thing to read in a textbook. Another entirely to find the right frame of mind, the right concentration, to cast in earnest, in need.’  
  
‘It’s been two years; how hard can it be?’ she pointed out.  
  
‘Wonderful,’ said Lupin. ‘Your keenness to volunteer, Tanith, holds you in good stead. The first step in defeating your fears comes from being _willing_ to confront them.’  
  
Tobias smothered a smirk as Tanith’s chin flinched up an inch. She hadn’t expected that. But within a heartbeat she had reassumed the mask of indifference, and she stepped forward with a shrug. ‘It’s only a Boggart. Can’t be that bad,’ she said, drawing her wand, and Tobias saw the whiteness of her knuckles.  
  
Lupin’s smile kept about his lips as he stepped next to the wardrobe, grasping the door. ‘Ready, Tanith?’ he asked politely, and when she replied with no more than a sharp jerk of her head, he yanked the door open.  
  
All there was at first was the sensation of _movement_ , of something emerging from the dark and seemingly empty wardrobe, and Tanith’s wand rose in readiness. Hardly a second passed before the indeterminate had shifted with the clanging of metal, the rattling of chains, and then there it was, falling towards her, a large, square metal cage. The door swung open, the lock clicked forebodingly, and while Tobias felt more confused than afraid, he couldn’t mistake the particularly set tension to Tanith’s face.  
  
‘ _Riddikulus_ ,’ she snapped, voice clear and firm, and then it wasn’t a tight, containing cage tumbling towards her at all - but a solid wooden, colourful crate, a Jack-in-the-Box bursting forth. The room burst into laughter, even Tanith, though Tobias could see hers was a tight, superior chuckle rather than full-on hilarity. Still, she stepped back and gave Professor Lupin a deep, mocking bow.  
  
Lupin just grinned, and gestured to the crowd. Montague was first, and Tobias unkindly wondered if he was too dumb to realise he was supposed to be afraid. But even he could deal with the Chimera that manifested with ease, the different parts of different animals mixing up more and more until it had the head of a chicken, the hind of a goat, and looked foolish instead of foreboding. Thus it continued - Pucey with the skeleton he made dance, Larkin with the tall, austere figure in Healer’s robes who suddenly was decked out like a member of the Weird Sisters, and so forth. Gabriel was confronted with a giant mannequin doing a jerky dance he found a good deal funnier after its feet was on fire.  
  
And then Tobias was pushed forward, and his heart sank as he watched the Boggart contract. _Oh, no, it_ _’s not going to be - yes, yes, it is._  
  
The flaming mannequin shifted, and there, in the middle of the staffroom, a large snake raised its head and _hissed_ at him.  
  
Great. In front of all of his Slytherin classmates, he’d declared _this_ to be his worst fear. Tobias had even less desire to waste time, even as the snake slithered forwards in its disconcertingly smooth fashion. Absently, a part of him wondered if last year’s roaming basilisk had made this worse, but he didn’t think about it much as he whipped out his wand. ‘ _Riddikulus_.’ At first, nothing happened - then the snake unwound and burst into the air, not with a strike, but with a sudden gust of upward motion. His spell had worked, and he wasn’t confronted with a serpent at all, but an over-sized balloon, bobbing back to the ground before it burst.  
  
His laugh was a good deal more victorious than Tanith’s had been.  
  
She tugged at his sleeve when he rejoined the crowd. ‘Your Boggart’s a _snake_?’ she hissed. ‘You do know you’re a Slytherin, right? Are you _trying_ to be ironic?’  
  
‘I’m only _trying_ to explain I don’t like snakes.’ Tobias scowled. ‘And what’s up with a bloody cage, anyway -’ But he felt her tense, and he looked up to see it was Cal’s turn.  
  
Cal’s broad shoulders were taut, the wand _too_ steady in his hand, and Tobias’ brow furrowed. Grip like that, he’d never cast anything easily. And yet, the Boggart had already changed, and it wasn’t that impressive at a glance; just a white mask on the floor. Tanith’s breath caught before his, and only then did he realise what it was. A Death Eater mask.  
  
He was a little curious about his own Boggart. Did it just mean he hated snakes, or was there some complicated sense of self-loathing here? Was Tanith afraid of literal confinement, or was there something more meaningful? Even if they considered that Cal’s Death Eater mask was a sensible, legitimate fear of what had once been a genuine threat to life and limb, Tobias had to look at his best friend’s back, think of what he knew about his family, and wonder.  
  
‘ _Riddikulus_.’ It felt like Cal took much longer than anyone else to cast, but likely he was just as fast as everyone. The Boggart burst into a carnival mask, bright and colourful and animated like wizard theatre props, pulling a silly face. Lupin gave a swish of the wand, sent the mask flying back into the wardrobe, and slammed it shut, the whole class tested.  
  
It was Cal who spoke first, jaw tight. ‘See, Professor? We’re a year or two ahead of this. Can we get back to curses and counter-curses, now?’ To most, he sounded haughty and indifferent, though Tobias knew better. Cal wanted, keenly, to move on.  
  
Tobias looked from Professor Lupin to the row of Slytherin fourth-years, indignant at a lesson which had thrown all their inner demons into the public eye, and sighed. He didn’t think he was going to have a hard time turning them against Snape’s least-favourite member of staff.  
  
At least it meant he could spend more time reminding Tanith that Miles Bletchley was a pillock.


	6. December 31st, 1995 - Sixth Year

  
Neither darkness nor silence were absolute in the Slytherin Common Room, even at this time of year. The sconces were dead, but the enchanted windows streamed an eerie green glow as if light was poured through the depths of the lake, bathing everything in shimmering emerald. As for the silence, a figure emerging from the dormitory stairway to hiss, ‘What time is it?’ broke that.  
  
‘It’s nine. If you want to go, you’d best be off. Even though I’ve made my opinion _perfectly_ clear.’ Tobias spoke from an armchair near the windows, reading his book by the shimmering green glow.  
  
‘Yeah.’ Cal pulled his coat on. ‘Before everyone gets back.’  
  
‘They won’t be back for at least an hour. And there’s, what, six of them? Everyone else in Slytherin had the sense to go home for Christmas.’ Tobias gave a melodramatic sigh. ‘Leaving us languishing on our own in the cold, gloomy depths for weeks to come -’  
  
‘Days, Grey. Relax.’ That was Tanith, coming from the girls’ dorms. ‘Did you honestly want Montague underfoot at Christmas? That’d really ruin the festive cheer.’  
  
Tobias looked sheepish. ‘I guess we’re fortunate our families’ occupied Christmases landed on the same year.’  
  
‘Yeah, fortunate,’ muttered Cal. ‘Because our Christmas together _last_ year went so well.’ But silence returned with a vengeance at that, no longer overwhelming but certainly _awkward_ , and he glared at the dead sconces on the wall as if they were responsible for his faux pas.  
  
Tanith shrugged. ‘With Altair away and Evadne with her boyfriend’s family, _I_ _’d_ rather be here than stuck in the house with just my parents. It’s not like _they_ care.’  
  
 _That didn_ _’t make this less awkward._ Tobias cleared his throat. ‘Like I said, if you want to go, go now.’  
  
Cal and Tanith exchanged glances. ‘You’re really not coming?’  
  
‘What if we get caught? Sneaking out of grounds late at night? Umbridge will have us expelled. We’ll be accused of heading out to… I don’t know, subvert the Ministry or something!’  
  
‘So we won’t get caught,’ said Cal, and before Tobias could object he’d been hauled out of his chair, Tanith on his other arm, and was being frog-marched towards the door. ‘Come on, Perfect Prefect. You can keep an eye on us, make sure we behave.’  
  
‘Tanith’s a prefect, too! You’re not mocking her!’  
  
‘I have survival instincts.’  
  
‘And I’m not the Future Head Boy wannabe. Or Head Girl,’ Tanith pointed out as they emerged in the gloomy corridors of late-night Hogwarts, empty in the holidays. ‘Which way did Van Roden say the passage was?’  
  
‘Left,’ sighed Tobias, and he was let go so he could lead on. ‘And I won’t be Head Boy. Dumbledore isn’t going to pick a Slytherin.’  
  
‘Yeah, but you don’t have to compete with his Gryffindor bias,’ Tanith said. ‘Riley will make Head Girl, no doubt, but putting Everard above you…’  
  
‘It won’t be Tom. It’ll be O’Neal, to appease the Hufflepuffs. And I’m _fine_ with that.’  
  
‘So you got nothing to lose by sneaking out with us.’ Cal elbowed him.  
  
‘Umbridge will have our heads! Snape won’t save us!’  
  
‘Will you relax?’ Cal said. ‘Umbridge is down in the Main Hall for the feast. Stop being a pansy and get us to the door; the Hogsmeade Festival’s going to be in full swing now, so we can slip in with the crowds.’ He was tapping the walls with his wand by now, as if he’d stumble upon the promised passageway.  
  
‘Oh, so I’m a pansy for not wanting my entire _future_ to be ruined? We don’t _know_ Umbridge is in the Hall. She’s scary and paranoid and expects people to pull stunts like this. She could be anywhere; she could be around the next corner -’  
  
Then a shape _did_ come around the next turn. Tobias felt a flash of vindication when he saw Tanith and Cal jump out of their skins, even if he’d wound them up in the first place, but it was short lived as he, too, clutched at Cal in panic. Then they realised the figure was too tall to be Umbridge, and for a second Tobias was even more terrified it was _Snape_ , until sanity kicked in enough to recognise the shape.  
  
‘Gabriel, you git!’ Cal burst out. ‘You scared the hell out of us! Tobias had us convinced you were Umbridge on an expelling spree.’  
  
Gabriel gave Tobias a sidelong look. ‘You got me confused with an overgrown toad?’  
  
‘There is a small chance I might have overreacted.’  
  
Tanith flipped her hair back like she hadn’t clutched his arm hard enough to risk bruising. ‘Doyle, you said you’d meet us down there. Why are you here?’  
  
‘The other route didn’t work. Filch is on watch. But everyone else is up at the Great Hall, so we should be okay. The passage is this way.’  
  
Tanith squinted at him. ‘How do _you_ know about these passageways?’  
  
‘My brother told me. How do you think I’ve been slipping past prefects and teachers for walks all these years?’  
  
‘Let’s just go,’ said Tobias. ‘I’ll feel better when we’re out of here.’  
  
‘I hate to say it, but he’s right,’ said Tanith, and they followed Gabriel down the corridor, a more tight clump on high alert after the false alarm. ‘Forget expelling, Dad would _kill_ me if we were found wandering.’  
  
Tobias glanced at her as they turned down a small side-corridor. ‘I thought he ignores you so long as you don’t bother him?’  
  
‘This would bother him,’ she said dryly. ‘It’s too much for him to pay attention to my career choices, but if I embarrass him by getting in serious trouble, there’ll be hell. Worse, I think he’s not convinced that Potter’s just mad, I think he thinks that there really _is_ danger out there.’  
  
‘The thing about fear,’ said Tobias, ‘is that it’s a great excuse for controlling people. For their own good.’  
  
Gabriel stopped at a suit of armour which only came up to his chest and which Tobias assumed was only for show, brow furrowed. ‘I think this is it.’  
  
‘I hope the passageway’s taller,’ said Cal wryly.  
  
Gabriel ignored him and pulled the short pike down. There was a scraping of stone on stone, then the wall swung open, even though there had been no sign of a seam. ‘Ta-da -’ The declaration died in his throat at the sight beyond - or the lack thereof. He hadn’t led them wrong; there _was_ a passageway, but it sank into darkness so deep that they couldn’t see more than the first few feet of paving stones before pitch blackness.  
  
‘You know what I said when I agreed to come with you?’ Tobias’ voice went up a pitch. ‘I said, “hey, horrible murder down a dark passageway. _That_ _’s_ for me.”’  
  
‘Are you sure this is it?’ Cal squinted, hand on his wand.  
  
‘ _Mostly_ ,’ said Gabriel.  
  
Tanith huffed. ‘What’s wrong with you? It’s a _dark corridor_. Scary.’ She pushed past them, light already sparking from her wand as she drew it, and the brightness was enough to push the shadows of the passageway back as she advanced. Not to be out-done by the smallest of them, the three boys exchanged glances before slinking in her wake, all of them sparking _Lumos_ spells from their wands, but they hadn’t gone more than ten feet down the passageway before the scraping sound came again, and the masonry slid back shut behind them.  
  
‘Gabe, if that doesn’t open on our way back, I will _kill_ you,’ Tobias muttered.  
  
Gabriel snorted, at ease more quickly in the darkness. ‘Don’t you trust me?’ There was a pause. ‘Fine, don’t answer, you ungrateful bastards.’  
  
The passageway _was_ less foreboding by wand-light. The stonework looked as old and worn as anywhere else in the depths of Hogwarts, and as Slytherins with a common room in the dungeons, they knew the bowels of the castle better than most students. And, though none of the boys would admit it, Tanith leading the way - the unspoken best of them at hexes and shields - made them feel a whole lot better about forging onward.  
  
‘So how the hell,’ Tobias said to her, trying to fill the silence, ‘does your Dad think Potter’s not _mental_?’  
  
She sighed. ‘I don’t know. And I might be wrong. But I know he’s upped security around the house, around the horses -’  
  
Cal laughed. ‘Yeah. The return of You-Know-Who will be heralded by horse-rustling.’  
  
‘It’s stupid, you don’t have to tell me. Dad’s just looking for trouble.’  
  
‘You don’t think,’ said Tobias, ‘he knows something we don’t?’  
  
She gave him a look over her shoulder. ‘He’s a _horse breeder_ , Grey. Even if there _was_ some secret return of You-Know-Who, the Autumn 1995 Aethonan Show is _not_ where he’d learn about it.’  
  
‘Never underestimate the underground information exchanged by horse breeders,’ Cal giggled.  
  
Tobias shrugged. ‘Dumbledore believes Potter.’  
  
‘So he says, else Dumbledore needs to admit he screwed up security on the Tri-Wizard Tournament,’ she pointed out. ‘And then people might look into that, and Dementors almost Kissing Potter, and how a basilisk was roaming around the _school_ for _months_ and he couldn’t do bugger all. Oh, and Lupin.’  
  
Tobias winced. ‘Lupin was alright -’  
  
‘Yeah, but he was still a _werewolf_ teaching kids. A werewolf who _did_ get loose.’  
  
‘He didn’t hurt anyone -’  
  
‘He could have. And we don’t even know what _did_ happen that night, because Dumbledore bloody well covered it up!’  
  
Silence fell at that, a satisfied sort of silence because if there was one thing they could all agree on, it was that they didn’t trust Albus Dumbledore.  
  
‘I hate to interrupt this argument, especially when it’s about Tobias being a naive idealist again and so my mind is, you know, blown,’ drawled Gabriel, ‘but we’re here.’  
  
Indeed, the darkness ahead was breaking for the pinpricks of starlight and the streaming brightness of the moon. They picked up the pace, soon to push past bushes and branches blocking the passageway and emerge into the brisk, cool air of the night beyond Hogwarts grounds. Gabriel checked the stars, looked about the clump of trees they stood in, then turned to a nearby rise and said, ‘That way.’  
  
They followed as they had before, and when they crested the hill were rewarded with the sight of Hogsmeade village spilling out before them, alive with light and sound even on this cold winter’s night. With grins they descended the slope, and the scene only grew before them.  
  
Twinkling lights of a kaleidoscope of colours, dangling from gutters and lampposts. Music blaring from the band set up at a stand in the village square, dozens of witches and wizards filling the streets in their best, most outrageous partying regalia, warming charms keeping everyone comfortable. As the only fully magical settlement in Britain, Hogsmeade was always the home to the more elaborate magic celebrations. The Yule gathering was the most famous, and the summer fetes were well-known, but the New Year’s festival had a reputation all of its own. It was only half-nine, there was already street dancing, and the outside tables and bar of the Three Broomsticks were full enough that it was clear the celebrations had been in full swing for a while.  
  
Tobias looked on as a man to his left juggled ten sparkling wands, their tips casting illusions into the air when they peaked. Mythological beasts sprung forth in a myriad of colours, each illusion more splendorous than the last, and begrudging parents tossed coins into his hat as their children clapped and cheered. Tobias had no doubt he could copy each illusion individually, but the idea of casting ten in sequence, when the wands were out of his hand, while _juggling,_ was baffling. On his right, a witch stood at a long table covered in cutlery, flicking her wand to make the knives and forks shift into different metallic animals which did dances, some together, some individually, all in time with the music spilling from the town square. The music itself was of the traditional British wizarding sort, and as they reached the square they could see the band: a singer accompanied by a fiddler and his three fiddles hovering around his head, drumsticks thudding a beat of their own accord, a piper playing a multi-stemmed pipe with ease.  
  
The four students turned to each other, grinning broadly. Regrets and fears were left far behind in dark corridors of Hogwarts.  
  
‘Let’s get a table,’ said Cal, rubbing his hands together. ‘It’ll be murder if we wait.’  
  
None of them argued, even though one of the Three Broomsticks’ serving girls was conjuring up tables as quickly as people arrived. It was one of these they grabbed, Cal throwing the girl a wink, and Gabriel headed for the bar to get the first round. Tobias had originally promised himself he wouldn’t drink, his compromise to himself when he’d given in to sneaking out. Now he was here, he couldn’t bring himself to stop Gabriel and tell him to just get a Butterbeer.  
  
‘See?’ said Tanith, grinning when she realised. ‘You can relax. We’re away from the risks.’  
  
‘Realistically, it takes one teacher coming to the party and spotting us and we’ll be in a _world_ of trouble. I’m not going to assume we’re home-free yet.’  
  
‘Right little ray of sunshine, isn’t he?’ Cal sighed.  
  
‘ _Unwind_ , Grey.’ She swatted him on the arm. ‘I wouldn’t even _think_ about doing this if it weren’t for Umbridge, but if we spent another night stuck inside the castle I was going to go mental.’  
  
‘Yeah,’ said Cal. ‘Don’t tell Gabe I said this, but less of Dumbledore isn’t a good thing. Everyone’s on edge. No wonder hardly anyone’s stayed for the Christmas holidays.’  
  
‘This is _definitely_ an improvement on home,’ said Tanith.  
  
‘You used to get on with your parents.’ Tobias glanced at her. ‘What happened?’  
  
‘I blame you two,’ she said with a wry curl of the lips. ‘Making me do all that independent thinking.’  
  
He grimaced. ‘I’m only a _little_ sorry.’  
  
‘Don’t be.’ She waved a hand. ‘Just, why do you think I’ve found somewhere else to _be_ the last few summers?’  
  
Cal leaned in. ‘Speaking of, you guys want to come to mine for a bit in August? Will won’t mind. We won’t be bothering him. We can check the pubs, and do a spot of hiking, it’ll be great.’  
  
‘Sounds good,’ said Tobias. ‘Mum keeps getting contracts in France, and - well, I don’t want her to have to stick around on my account. It’s good money. She likes it.’  
  
Gabriel returned, bearing a small tray. ‘Stop looking months ahead! We’re here to party! Right now!’ he declared, and started dishing out drinks. They each had a sturdy tankard of something he’d made a judicious guess on them liking - Tobias peered into an ale, while he could smell something more fruity in front of Tanith - and then shot glasses. They were red. And on fire. Tobias’ was a double.  
  
‘What the hell is this?’  
  
‘ _El Cuetlaxochitl_ , which is a really _long_ name for a shot. But it’s Mexican. And festive. And _on fire_ ,’ said Gabriel with a manic glint in his eye.  
  
‘I can _see_ it’s on fire; why’s mine bigger?’  
  
‘Because you,’ said Gabriel, plopping down and grabbing his shot glass, ‘need to relax twice as much as everyone else. Bottoms up!’  
  
He, Cal and Tanith downed theirs without hesitation. Tobias faltered for a heartbeat, knew he’d never get over the ribbing if he balked, and poured the drink down his throat. The flames weren’t _real_ , just a magical part of the illusion, but warmth still rushed through him from head to toe the moment the liquid touched his tongue. Then it raced down with upsetting ease, and he had to gasp as it hit his gut with a fizz. ‘Jesus Christ!’  
  
Gabriel and Tanith laughed, but Cal was thudding his chest, steam billowing out of his nose, and that made all of them laugh harder.  
  
‘It went down wrong!’ Cal croaked once he could talk. ‘Fucking hell, I think my nostrils are burning.’  
  
‘Come on, Cal, you can’t be out-done by Grey.’ Tanith elbowed him in the ribs. ‘Not at drinking. I thought you had the constitution of an ox?’  
  
‘I’m not fire-proof!’  
  
Tobias grinned as he tilted his tankard to his friend. ‘I’m happy for round two when you are.’ A drinking competition with Cal Brynmor was destined to end with him sleeping in the bathroom, head in a toilet, if he was _lucky._ But Hogsmeade Festival was as intoxicating as the drinks, and he couldn’t help himself.  
  
‘When I’ve finished this,’ said Cal, hefting his own tankard, ‘you’re _on_.’  
  
‘Tobias Grey gets into a drinking competition while still technically under Hogwarts’ care,’ sighed Gabriel. ‘Hell hath frozen over.’  
  
Tanith laughed, then saw something down the street over their shoulders, and her laugh died. ‘I’d agree with you,’ she said, as everyone’s hearts lunged into their throats with the fear of an oncoming teacher, ‘but I see a _different_ sign of the apocalypse.’  
  
Cal twisted in his chair, then gave a bark of laughter and lifted his tankard. ‘What’s this? Jennifer Riley breaking the _rules_? Bad future Head Girl! Very bad!’ he crowed at the pack of Hogwarts students who’d clearly had the same idea as them.  
  
‘I’d say the same about Grey!’ Nick Wilson called back, and the mob of five newcomers stopped at the Slytherins’ table. There was a long, taut silence as they eyeballed each other. It had been years since anyone had crossed wands or fists, but a cease fire didn’t mean a peace treaty, and Slytherins were not the best-liked House by the rest of the school under Umbridge’s command.  
  
It helped that they weren’t Pucey, or Montague, or Bletchley. But Gabe and Tanith often gave as good as they got, by habit if nothing else by now, and so Tobias was astonished when she was the one to get to her feet first and stick a hand out. ‘We’re going to need more seats,’ she said, and waved her wand to bring another freshly-conjured table sweeping across the cobbles to join them.  
  
Tobias watched as her gaze met Wilson’s. Her expression, of course, was impassive. His was more surprised and uncertain, but then he shrugged, sat down, and like that the spell was broken for all of them. ‘Nice one,’ he declared. ‘So what drove you _reprobates_ to rule-breaking?’  
  
‘Like we haven’t done it before,’ scoffed Cal. ‘Riley must have told you it’s _dead_ and _creepy_ in Hogwarts right now.’  
  
‘I did,’ said Jen Riley, pulling up a stool next to Wilson. ‘And then _he_ suggested I break out and meet him here. Because he’s _mad_.’  
  
They all laughed, and Tobias hid his expression behind a gulp of ale as he saw the soppy looks exchanged between Riley and Wilson. He set down his tankard. ‘So let me sleuth a moment. Wilson had the idea for you to break out, Jen. Jen, you grabbed poor Aurora here and saved her from a life of riddles and books in dreary Ravenclaw Tower.’ He nodded to Aurora Jameson, not normally one of Jen Riley’s close friends, but they were the only other sixth years in Hogwarts over Christmas, and when one didn’t want to hang out with Slytherins, it made for a natural alliance.  
  
‘Then I recruited Mac, and George here was good enough to give them a lift.’ Wilson gestured to Annie MacKenzie, Riley’s best friend, and gave George Summerby, Hufflepuff Seeker, a clap on the back. Summerby didn’t look thrilled by this. He wasn’t part of their usual social circle either, and Tobias had the sneaking suspicion he’d been conscripted as one of the few members of their year who’d already got his Apparition license.  
  
‘I’ll get drinks,’ said Summerby with a sigh.  
  
‘It’s packed, you might be waiting,’ Gabriel warned him. Then he fished out his coinpurse. ‘Get us another three ales and a Mystic Magpie, would you?’ There was a pause as all eyes turned on him at his casual, commanding tone. He grinned. ‘And, er, get everyone a round of that flaming red stuff. They’ll know what I mean. On me.’ Tobias rolled his eyes at the tactic of using money and booze to overcome a social faux pas, but it worked, Summerby heading off with a good-natured grumble, and then Annie MacKenzie was leaning across the table towards the four Slytherins.  
  
‘So how long did you guys have _this_ planned?’  
  
‘I’m not sure,’ Cal grunted. ‘Maybe since Christmas? It was _dire_ , so we thought we’d make a break for it.’  
  
‘You _were_ talking about the festival last month,’ Tanith said, and sipped her drink. ‘You said we should go some day.’  
  
‘Yeah, but “some day” didn’t mean “this year”,’ Gabriel pointed out.  
  
Tobias sighed and turned to MacKenzie. ‘In short, it was a last minute thing. I _did_ try to discourage them, but they seem intent on getting all of us expelled.’  
  
‘Not that that’d be much of a loss,’ said Annie dryly, ‘with Umbridge all but running the place.’  
  
‘It’d get in the way of my plans.’  
  
‘Plans?’  
  
The other three Slytherins groaned theatrically. ‘Don’t encourage him, Mac,’ Cal sighed. ‘He’ll talk your ears off for the rest of the night about outrageous dreams of becoming an _Ambassador of Magic_ , working in some embassy in some God-forsaken country, spreading the good British word.’  
  
MacKenzie gave Tobias an appraising look. ‘Department of International Magical Cooperation? Sounds cool.’  
  
‘ _Thank_ you.’  
  
Tanith leaned in. ‘Let’s not talk career. Or studies. We’re here to _forget_ about school. It’s not that important anyway.’  
  
‘Not that important, says Miss Auror Wannabe, who needs a bag of top NEWTs to even be _looked_ at by the interview board,’ he pointed out.  
  
George Summerby returned, setting the tray down. ‘You want to be an Auror? I thought only the best of the best make it.’  
  
Tobias arched an eyebrow at him. ‘Then you’re just encouraging her. She _is_ the best.’  
  
Cal smacked his hands on the table. ‘Drinks!’ he declared, nodding to the array of shots. ‘Drink up, chin chin, Merry Christmas and may Umbridge be impaled on the wings of an angel.’  
  
‘Christmas has been and gone,’ Wilson pointed out, reaching for glasses for him and Riley.  
  
‘Then our dreams are shattered and we’d best drink.’  
  
Riley sniffed the glass. ‘What the hell is this.’  
  
‘It’s flaming,’ said Gabriel, ‘and red. You drink it.’  
  
She arched an eyebrow at him. ‘Really. I would never have imagined.’  
  
‘Deduction skills like that, no wonder you’re a top student.’ Gabriel smirked an obnoxious smirk. People who knew him might tell he was teasing. Riley just looked put-out.  
  
‘Bottoms up!’ Cal shouted to break the tension, and Tobias had to scramble for another glass, poured it down his throat without thinking. This time it tried to go up his nose, and he clutched his throat and chest, coughing and sputtering, smoke billowing from his mouth and nostrils.  
  
He collapsed against the table, gasping and laughing at once, and could only give MacKenzie a grateful smile when she conjured a glass filled with water for him. Conjured water would dissipate from his stomach within minutes, providing no hydration, no nutrients, nothing of value. But it _did_ wash down the Flaming Red (he wasn’t going to try to remember its actual name) and bring some cooling relief.  
  
‘Thank you,’ he croaked.  
  
‘This dancing,’ said Wilson, eyeing the square, ‘is sedate. We should show them how it’s done at Hogwarts.’  
  
‘With stepping on toes and terrible dress robes?’ said MacKenzie, grinning. ‘Great demonstration, Nick.’  
  
‘Let’s _not_ wear a sign saying “Hogwarts Truants Right Here,”’ groaned Riley.  
  
‘We’ll be fine,’ said Wilson, hopping to his feet and grabbing her hand, and she could barely protest before he’d whisked her off her seat and into the crowd of dancers.  
  
Tobias rubbed his throat and glanced to Tanith next to him, his own memories of the Yule Ball rising and tasting far, far worse than any burning from the shots. He turned to MacKenzie instead. ‘Fancy joining them? I’m not a bad dancer, and I almost _never_ step on toes.’  
  
Tanith muttered, ‘How _do_ the girls turn you down, Grey,’ but he ignored her as Annie MacKenzie grinned at him and stood.  
  
‘Sounds good. Nick can’t dance worth a damn, so someone _does_ have to show them how it’s done,’ she said, taking his outstretched hand, and followed him into the crowd.  
  
Behind him he was aware of Summerby turning to Tanith, but before he could say a word, Cal had swept in and dragged her into the street, too. That came with a sense of relief, one not improved by Cal’s discreet, reassuring wink as they passed. Tobias gritted his teeth. He wasn’t supposed to be feeling like this.  
  
He drew a deep breath and turned to Annie as the next song started up, and told himself that with a pretty girl agreeing to dance with him, he should absolutely not be thinking about anything or any _one_ else, especially not in the unrequited feelings department. ‘So, _can_ you dance, or should I take it easy?’  
  
‘Hey, just because I’m a Muggle-born doesn’t mean that I can’t keep up with that triple-fluted pipe thing. I took ballet lessons, I’ll have you know.’  
  
‘Where they flit around to prissy music wearing tutus?’  
  
She smirked. ‘Alright. You dance however you like, and I’ll show you just how prissy it is.’  
  
So he did. His mother had insisted on dance lessons from a young age, back when she’d been under the impression they might mingle again with upper pureblooded society. They hadn’t, but the lessons had stuck. His was not a great natural talent, but he could hit the beat, hit the floor, and improvise beyond formal steps into this more folksy, fast-paced music. At least it was traditionally wizarding, even with a speedy Celtic lilt, and that was what he’d been taught.  
  
And she could more than keep up.  
  
‘So how’d you guys get down here?’ she asked once they’d found their tempo, not missing a step even as she talked. ‘Jen had to fake a prefect patrol with Aurora and sneak off halfway through.’  
  
‘That was ballsy of her,’ Tobias had to concede. He didn’t know Riley had that streak of daring in her - but then, she _was_ a Gryffindor. ‘We got a hidden passageway, down from out of the dungeons. I can’t tell you all the secrets, though; I need a certain amount of mystery.’  
  
‘Ha, Slytherin ambiguity. You think it makes you all austere and superior just because nobody knows what goes on behind the doors to your common room.’  
  
The music meant he had to step in a little closer, and he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial stage whisper. ‘The same thing that happens everywhere else, just with more smug preening.’  
  
‘Oh, I don’t know. I live with Nick and Cormac.’  
  
He had to laugh. ‘They must be _charming_. I heard how they pelted you last year with dungbombs right before the Yule Ball,’ he said, and wondered why he was reminding the girl he was dancing with of a time she’d stunk of crap right before the biggest social event in their Hogwarts lives.  
  
‘I’m amazed you even heard of it, you Slytherins being all isolated,’ she retorted, not missing a beat either way.  
  
‘We’re being sociable tonight,’ he pointed out, and this time when the music made him step closer, he didn’t step back. It meant he had to move twice as fast, and so did she - but she tilted her head up to meet his gaze, and didn’t so much as blink at the challenge.  
  
‘Tonight, sure. In general?’ She leaned into the next twirl, forcing him to hold her a little tighter. ‘You guys are the outsiders.’  
  
‘Considering most of my housemates, I think that’s doing the rest of the school a kindness.’  
  
Her smile faded for sympathy. ‘It can’t be easy to have those guys in your House. I mean, I know how the rest of the school paints you all. Nick’s only being nice because Jen _told_ him to when we spotted your table. But you’re not like the rest.’  
  
‘Not much of a compliment, considering Montague’s a right brute and Bletchley can be an utter wanker -’  
  
‘I meant _you_ , not the other three. Doyle can be a bastard. I know he’s your friend, and I’m sorry, but he can.’  
  
Tobias wrinkled his nose. ‘I know. He’s better than he used to be, is all I can say.’  
  
‘And Brynmor’s alright, but I’ve seen him stood with Montague and Pucey when they’re being arses. Friends with everyone, even if that “everyone” is a right piece of work.’ She shook her head as the song came to an end, and stepped away.  
  
A part of him insisted he defend Cal, but the words didn’t come. ‘Cal’s like a brother to me. He’s a good friend. But it doesn’t blind me to his faults. And I have my own faults, I know; my ego’s not too big to blind me to _that_.’  
  
‘A healthy ego’s sometimes a good thing.’  
  
 _And maybe I should exercise it_ , Tobias thought. He glanced to the band, heard the first notes of the next song creep in, something altogether slower, softer, and met her gaze. ‘Shall we keep dancing?’  
  
She paused, also taking in the music for a heartbeat. Then smiled. ‘Sounds good.’  
  
He stepped in, dimly aware of the rest of their table returning for drinks and conversation and revelry, but then his arms were around her, her hands at his shoulders, and he had to give a nervous smile. ‘What about Tanith?’ he asked, and almost stumbled when he realised how that might sound. ‘I mean, what makes her not-so-different from the rest?’  
  
She returned the smile, reassuring enough to dissipate some of his nerves. ‘You tell me,’ she said. ‘You say you can see their flaws.’  
  
Tobias was abruptly aware this might be a test. He didn’t know if Annie knew enough to _really_ test him, nor was he sure how to pass it, and so decided to do something very foolish: tell the truth. ‘She’s better than she was, like Gabriel, but she can be cruel. I know she thinks she’s being honest, and I don’t think she realises she’s doing it, but it’s there. And she falls into very “us versus them” mentalities, which don’t make things easier with… purebloods versus Muggle-borns, or Slytherins versus everyone else.’  
  
Annie nodded. ‘You went to the Yule Ball with her,’ she said as they twirled. It wasn’t a question, and yet it really, blatantly was.  
  
‘And it ended _terribly_ ,’ said Tobias, quick to reassure though he didn’t know why. ‘I mean, I thought we might become more than friends, but she made it clear it wasn’t going to happen. One good thing about her honesty is that she doesn’t leave you uncertain.’ He couldn’t help but grimace.  
  
Her gaze remained sympathetic, but he could see her eyes searching his face, reading his every tone of voice, every flicker of expression. ‘That sucks,’ she said, ‘feeling like that about your best friend when she’s not interested.’  
  
He met her gaze, and now he was worried about what _she_ thought, the irritation at Summerby almost asking Tanith to dance easily forgotten. And why _shouldn_ _’t_ he forget it? ‘I’ve dealt with it. Just an infatuation,’ he said, grinning, and his voice went mock-serious, mock-haughty. ‘I’m a man in the wizarding world now, I think I’m entitled to dismiss my vague attractions of the past and move on.’  
  
She returned his too-serious nod, playing along. ‘That sounds very sensible, Tobias Grey. What were you thinking of moving onto?’  
  
‘Something better,’ he said, and he wasn’t sure why he was saying it, nor why he was saying it to _her_ , but he did know why she was smiling at him like that. And then he was smiling, too, and the moment clicked with the right time, the right place, the right person.  
  
He kissed her, and it wasn’t a fumbled mess like his attempted kiss of Tanith last year, because Annie clearly wanted it too, and kissed him back. And even though she was someone he’d known for six years but had only paid the slightest amount of attention to in Potions, and he didn’t know her much better after an evening of flirting and dancing, that didn’t matter, because they both knew it was just a kiss. And though a kiss could lead to possibly more kisses, and to an unknown territory beyond, right then it was just a kiss, neither of them caring that they were in the middle of a crowded street in Hogsmeade - because on New Year’s Eve, what was one more couple in each others’ arms under the stars?

 

§

  
  
‘Just as well Tobias has been paying more attention to his bloody Gryffindor than anything else.’ Tanith emptied the last of a bottle of Firewhiskey into her glass and slammed it back in one go. She felt fuzzy, and really not drunk enough, despite all efforts. Cal and Gabe had happily helped her with the bottle; the moment Tobias had begun snogging MacKenzie without a care for the rest of the world, the two of them had miraculously manifested the bottle. ‘Or this wouldn’t have been _close_ to enough for four us.’  
  
Sure, she’d finished the last quarter by herself. But it was one in the morning, she was tipsy, she was tired, and she was sick of the revelry everyone _else_ was enjoying. Gabriel and Cal had gone into one of their buddy-buddy moods, much more physical in their interactions, and Tanith didn’t want to intrude in case one of Cal’s ‘friendly’ punches knocked her off her stool. Summerby had given up on her as a lost cause, chatting with Aurora Jameson.  
  
Then there were the couples. Nauseating, the lot of them, and Tanith didn’t want to look over at where Tobias and MacKenzie kept flirting like they _hadn_ _’t_ spent half the night lip-locked, _or_ where Riley was by now entangled on Wilson’s lap like nobody else was there. Not that she cared, normally. But tonight was not normal, and she was pissed off.  
  
She stood, grabbing Cal by the shoulder as she did so. ‘I think we should head back,’ she slurred. ‘It’ll be stupidly suspicious if we stagger into the Great Hall at six in the morning, sleepless and drunk.’  
  
There was some grumbling, but Gabriel got up too, after a heartbeat of catching on. ‘Yeah, and Snape will kick us out of bed if we try to lie-in _too_ long.’  
  
Tobias stared at the three of them. ‘ _You_ had to drag _me_ out tonight, and now _you_ _’re_ the ones trying to turn in this early?’  
  
‘Yeah, well, _I_ _’m_ done, you can do whatever,’ Tanith snapped. And he just _grinned_ at her.  
  
‘Alright. It is a bit late, and I’d rather not have a mad Snape after me.’ He turned to MacKenzie, who was still grinning in that knowing way which made Tanith want to hex her. He supposed Tobias would have never gone for some blank blonde bimbo, but there was something _too_ aware about her gaze. It made Tanith suspect she was doing a lot of this to annoy others. Her in particular.  
  
‘Riley and Jameson can find their own way back,’ Tanith said loudly, and dragged off Cal, whom she had to lean on to walk in a reliably straight line. Gabriel followed as they headed down the main road, and that was all the farewell she was prepared to give. She certainly didn’t look back. She didn’t want to see the inevitable goodbye snog.  
  
When he caught up with them, after a good while, they were just exiting the village, heading for the hill where their passageway lurked. The foursome found themselves slipping into their usual routine, and although Tanith wanted Cal’s comforting presence, she still found herself by habit walking unsteadily next to Tobias as Cal and Gabe meandered on ahead.  
  
‘Well. Did you have fun?’ She forced levity into her voice, which she considered a victory while she was trying to not trip over her own two feet.  
  
‘I did. Remind me to not question you when you tell me to unwind,’ he said, grinning a grin she hadn’t seen from him before. It was soft, happy, untroubled; three words she didn’t usually associate with him.  
  
‘I’m always right,’ she mumbled, and wished she were wrong. She glanced up. ‘So. MacKenzie. A Gryffindor.’  
  
His smile broadened. ‘It’s not how it seems,’ he said, the grin lying. ‘We talked and decided that, well, tonight was nice. But it doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll be spending Valentine’s Hogsmeade together or anything. We had a good time. That’s all, for now.’  
  
‘Tobias Grey has a one-off fling. Never thought I’d see the day.’ She tossed her hair over her shoulder like it was a practised gesture. ‘Just as well. You know I’d go nuts if you ever paired off with a Gryffindor.’  
  
‘It’s not like there are many options in Slytherin,’ he pointed out, and their feet crunched on icy grass in the silence that followed. ‘Look, there are other reasons I’m feeling good. I’ve had a weight lifted off my mind.’  
  
‘Wha-?’ Tanith stumbled on a rock, and his hand shot out automatically to steady her. He gave her a wry smile, and for the first time in a year there was no awkwardness there.  
  
‘You,’ he said, not yet letting go. ‘Despite what I said last year, I hadn’t quite… I’d _accepted_ that you didn’t feel the same way about me. I wasn’t over it. It still bugged me. I just tried to ignore it.’  
  
‘I know,’ she said, voice dropping. ‘I’m not blind.’  
  
‘I think, if nothing else, tonight cured me of that. Pointed out it was just a, an infatuation. You’re my friend, Tanith, and that means a thousand times more to me than you being my girlfriend would.’  
  
They had reached the bottom of the hill, and ahead Gabriel and Cal were disappearing into the darkness of the passage back to Hogwarts. Tanith stopped, and he did, too, blinking at her as she turned. ‘You’re a good friend, Tobias,’ she said, and kissed him on the cheek. He gave his stupid grin, pleased she was pleased, and _that_ wouldn’t do at all, for reasons other than the twist in her gut. So she continued. ‘But if you ever go out with a Gryffindor, I will kill you.’  
  
He laughed and threw his arm around her shoulder, a move to shepherd her to the passageway as much as it was a gesture of affection. ‘That’s the Tanith I know and love, right there. Don’t change. I need you to keep me grounded.’  
  
‘And I’m just glad,’ lied Tanith, ‘that you’re happy.’  
  



	7. January 14th, 1996 - Sixth Year

  
Cal wondered if he’d be better off killing himself before class. But then he might miss breakfast, and he was a growing lad. He did like breakfast. So it was with gritted teeth that he slid into a seat at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, head down, trying to will the buzzing in the crowds away. Something was up, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  
  
It wasn’t that he was in a bad mood. He just wanted to keep his head down, because if he didn’t kill himself, he was going to kill someone else. In particular, the two someone elses sat across the table from him, bickering like an old married couple.  
  
Not that he’d point this out. He valued his neck too much to insinuate there was anything beyond friendship between Tanith and Tobias, especially in these dark days. Because right now, their topic of argument was the same as it had been for the last two weeks: a certain dark-haired Gryffindor.  
  
‘I can spend my time with whomever I wish, Tanith, as well you know.’ Tobias managed to keep a superior tone while he buttered his toast, looking at it as if indifferent to her and yet getting a good deal on his sleeve.  
  
Tanith sipped her coffee. She’d taken to drinking black coffee lately. Cal suspected it was part of the image she was cultivating, but he wasn’t going to point _that_ out, either. ‘That doesn’t make you free from criticism.’  
  
‘And _of course_ you will criticise everyone’s choices.’  
  
‘Not everyone’s. Just yours, when they’re bad choices.’  
  
Cal grabbed the teapot. If they were yelling, he thought, that would be better. Then they’d blow up and inevitably come back down again. As it was, they remained cool, calm, polite even as they sharpened their words with their glares, so he needed tea. He didn’t want to know what had triggered this latest round about Tobias’ new girlfriend Annie MacKenzie, but these days just saying ‘good morning’ could set off Tanith.  
  
‘What makes you think you know what’s best for me?’ Tobias was saying, eyebrow arched. ‘With all the inter-House bitterness, don’t you think it’s _nice_ some people can look beyond the petty bickering?’  
  
‘Oh, yeah,’ Cal mumbled into his tea. ‘You’re a regular Romeo and Juliet.’  
  
Mercifully, they ignored him as Tanith gave a derisive sniff. ‘Believe it or not, this isn’t about me wanting to ruin what you have. I’m just not sure you and MacKenzie is the best decision you’ve ever made. I mean, you’ve made _bad_ choices -’  
  
‘I remember,’ said Tobias flatly. ‘You were one.’  
  
Cal stared into his tea and wondered if he could drown himself in it. It wouldn’t be a bad way to go. Except there was no explosion, and when he glanced up, he could see the slightest widening of her eyes, the rest of her expression impassive. He suppressed an oath. When Tanith snarked, everything was normal. When Tanith yelled, things were bad, but normal. When Tanith went _quiet_ , everything had _really_ gone too far.  
  
‘And you had,’ continued Tobias, either oblivious or trying to bull-rush past his mistake, ‘no problem last week in Hogsmeade. You didn’t make any comments _then_.’  
  
‘Well, first, I was drunk. Also, I thought it was a random snog, not anything with actual -’ Tanith narrowed her eyes at him. ‘…emotions. There _aren_ _’t_ actual emotions, are there.’  
  
Tobias turned bright red, and Cal drank more tea. Normally, he found Tobias’ inability to hide his blushes funny. Right now it was tragic. ‘I don’t know,’ Tobias stammered. ‘I mean, I don’t know her very well. But we’re having fun. That’s all.’  
  
She sat up straight. ‘Oh, Merlin, you really _do_ fancy her, don’t you.’  
  
There was not enough tea, coffee, or buttered toast to deal with this crisis. Cal looked around for a safe zone out of the blast radius of Tanith Cole’s impending explosion. Instead, he found the next best thing: a distraction in the shape of Gabriel entering the Great Hall, newspaper under his arm, and Cal half-rose, waving wildly. ‘Gabe! Over here!’  
  
It wasn’t necessary to summon Gabriel; he’d spotted them and was stalking over with, Cal thought, needless determination for breakfast. Gabe didn’t feel the same way as Cal about breakfast. He was never the most cheerful of them ever, and certainly not in the morning, but right now his lips cut a thin, grim line through his face.  
  
He sat down without a word and dumped the paper on the tale. ‘Read it.’  
  
Tanith groaned. ‘Doyle, whatever the Ministry’s done now…’  
  
But Cal wasn’t listening as his hands shot out for the paper, ice churning a storm in his gut as the pictures leapt out from under the headline. He took in the words, but only barely, only enough to realise the _full_ horror and meaning of the sight before him. Because there, alongside mugshots of a dozen other witches and wizards, was his father.  
  
Thanatos Brynmor had been a staunch supported of Voldemort in his reign of terror. But now he was in Azkaban, and all Cal had to remember him by were old photographs and government records.  
  
It was enough to recognise the face under the headline proclaiming an Azkaban breakout.  
  
Tobias peered at the paper upside-down. ‘Is breaking out of Azkaban the new fad? Black’s setting a trend? So much for the Ministry.’  
  
‘Or the Dementors.’ But Tanith wasn’t wry, her frown serious. ‘How the hell did this happen?’  
  
‘Maybe Mad Potter’s right,’ Gabriel said, voice low, grating. ‘Maybe You-Know-Who _is_ back. I mean, it’d take something like him for a mass breakout from Azkaban, right? Not just one escaped convict?’  
  
Cal stared at the paper, and drew a deep breath. When he looked up, he’d somehow managed to forge the ice into a frozen smile, a chiselled mask to face Tobias and Tanith. ‘Guess that saves me the hassle of keeping my father a secret from everyone. I mean, it’s there in black and white. “Thanatos Brynmor”. People would have to be pretty thick to not make the connection.’  
  
Tanith was looking sympathetic - horribly, horribly sympathetic, as he didn’t want her pity - and Tobias looked blank as the situation sank in. They’d known, of course, had known for years, but here it, plain for them to see. But then Tobias’ expression set, and he straightened. ‘Any of them worth a damn won’t let it affect them,’ he said, voice clear and firm. ‘You’re more than that. You _know_ you’re more than that.’  
  
‘Do _they_ know?’ Cal’s rictus of a smile remained, and he could hear the buzzing hubbub across the Great Hall again. This time, he knew what the fuss was about.  
  
‘We’d better get to Transfiguration,’ said Gabriel, numb as he got to his feet. He hadn’t touched any breakfast, Cal noticed when he stopped to shove the _Daily Prophet_ into his bag.  
  
He’d read it later, because he knew his curiosity, his morbid fascination, would be unstoppable. ‘Oh, good,’ Cal groaned. ‘A lesson with Gryffindors. Maybe they’ll try to burn me at the stake.’ He headed for the door with Gabriel at his side, Tanith and Tobias following, their bickering long forgotten.  
  
In some ways, that was even worse. It would normally take an act of God to stop those two from going at a topic when one or both had a bit between their teeth. And they weren’t the only ones affected; he felt the eyes fall on him as they made their way to class, but it was all the worse when they got there, one of the last groups to arrive.  
  
If he so much as coughed, he thought he might turn the tension explosive. He met McLaggen’s glare with a surly glance, and almost jumped when Bletchley clapped him on the shoulder. He hadn’t expected a sign of solidarity, and as he looked up the rows of gathered Gryffindors and Slytherins, he realised this wasn’t everyone rounding on him.  
  
This was two sides, polarised by the news, squaring off. He was just the powderkeg.  
  
He stopped next to Bletchley, Gabriel flanking his other side. Montague rolled his broad shoulders and kept up the glare at the Gryffindors, and there they were, Slytherins united against the world.  
  
Even if he wasn’t sure this was the side he wanted to be on.  
  
‘You know, Brynmor,’ McLaggen started, but was interrupted by the gunshot footsteps of McGonagall storming down the corridor to the classroom. She fixed them all with her own stare, enough to keep the animosity at bay, for now, and as one they all trooped into the lesson without saying a word.

 

§

  
  
‘…and I expect to see two feet of parchment on the best methods of increasing _mass_ when transfiguring inanimate objects into living beings. By Friday, without fail. I will not accept Quidditch practice as a good excuse from Misters Montague, Bletchley, or Pucey. No, nor you, Miss Bell. Your studies are more important than the Quidditch Cup, and I will say that even to my own Gryffindors.’  
  
Tobias stood as McGonagall reeled off instructions for the essay he knew would consume the rest of the week. At least, if he couldn’t find something _else_ to consume him, and he suspected that would be easy. Juggling work assignments was one thing, even if it was a damn sight harder with NEWTs than it had been with OWLs, but between personal woes and the real world creeping in at the outside, this would be an impressive set of acrobatics.  
  
‘Say what you like about McGonagall,’ Tanith muttered as she shoved her textbooks away, ‘but she’s horrid to _everyone_ when she gets going. Even Snape shows favouritism.’ It was the most they’d spoken all morning, kept silent by studies as much as by the news which had caused not a peace treaty, but a détente.  
  
‘And you know Potions this afternoon is going to be a barrel of laughs,’ he sighed.  
  
‘At least it’s with the Ravenclaws. Not the Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs. I don’t mean anything about MacKenzie by this, Grey, but don’t expect me to get friendly with the lions if they’re going to keep _this_ up.’ _This_ was the glares and muttering thrown at their row of tables, or more specifically, at Cal. It had lasted all morning, and while it was from the usual suspects most of all, the overwhelming majority had thrown him at least a suspicious glance.  
  
He had to give a grunt of agreement as they headed for the door. Cal and Gabriel had bolted right away, making it to the corridor before waiting for them in quiet discussion. Tobias knew there were some parts of Cal’s life where Gabriel was better equipped to help him, and aspects of the war were amongst them. He didn’t know _why_ , but he did know he wished he could give Cal more help than just moral support.  
  
Moral support, it seemed, would be needed. The hairs on the back of his neck rose before he heard Wilson’s voice drift across the hubbub of Slytherins and Gryffindors, because somehow, sometimes, words carried.  
  
‘You know, I thought some people would be in a better mood today.’ Wilson lounged against the wall next to McLaggen and Anderson, but his gaze found Cal. ‘Shouldn’t you be more cheerful, Brynmor?’  
  
Cal’s expression didn’t change, but Tobias saw his shoulders square. ‘Should I?’  
  
Tobias was too far away to join them without stalking across the lines of daggers glared, and so he and Tanith lurked at the periphery, watching as McLaggen raised an eyebrow in surprise.  
  
‘Isn’t this a day of great celebration for all the snakes in general? And you in particular?’  
  
At least now everyone could stop pretending they weren’t listening. A hush fell, and Tobias and Tanith scuttled sideways to join the Slytherin lines which were unconsciously forming opposite the Gryffindors. ‘You got something specific to say, McLaggen?’ Tobias burst out.  
  
It was Anderson, whom Tobias had always thought to be a reasonable bloke, who answered with a smirk. ‘I thought the meaning was clear. Death Eaters escape, and now all your parents or their buddies are back in action.’  
  
Bletchley shrugged. ‘My parents never had anything to do with Death Eaters. Why should _I_ be cheering?’  
  
Tobias’ hand clenched into a fist. ‘My father was killed by a Death Eater. Are you saying _I_ _’m_ happy about this breakout?’  
  
‘And yet,’ said Wilson, ‘there you are, shoulder-to-shoulder with a Death Eater’s son.’ They’d sat around a table at New Year’s, had drinks and cheered and laughed together. But they couldn’t fight the facts of Gryffindors and Slytherins on a day like this.  
  
Cal’s voice was low, rough. ‘As you can see, I’m not cheering. I know Gryffindors aren’t renowned for being smart, but maybe you should put those brains swollen with smug pride to fucking use and figure out _why_ I’m not thrilled.’  
  
A rumble ran across the Gryffindors, and Tobias’ lips thinned. Why had nobody told the idiots to back off? Everard and Riley, prefects, lurked at the back, making no effort to intervene. Even Annie had her eyes downcast, pretending to be somewhere else. Weren’t they meant to be the smart ones, the reasonable ones, diffusing this?  
  
 _Didn_ _’t you give up stopping Montague and Pucey from baiting the Muggle-borns?_ The over-buttered toast churned in Tobias’ stomach. The tables had turned.  
  
‘Sounding pretty defensive.’ McLaggen and Wilson exchanged the smug looks of a double-act. ‘Not sure why, if you’ve got nothing to hide about you and Daddy dearest, or are you protesting your innocence too much?’  
  
The first prefect to wade into this disaster turned out to be Tanith. Except she wasn’t using her badge when she stomped forward, wand slipping into her hand, eyes blazing. ‘You want to shut your mouth, McLaggen, or I’ll give _you_ something to protest about.’ Tobias put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off, and he let it drop. She wasn’t in a blind fury. This was a calculated retaliation, he realised - and it was an effort to draw their ire off Cal.  
  
‘Oh, did Brynmor show you some spells he learnt from his Dad?’ McLaggen smirked.  
  
‘I was going to go with shutting you up _by being prefects_ ,’ said Tobias, and stepped up to join her. He glared at Everard and Riley, who had the good grace to look sheepish. ‘So I suggest you back off.’  
  
‘And fuck off,’ Tanith added. ‘That’s my _official_ recommendation.’  
  
‘So, when his back’s the wall, Tobias Grey stands with the Junior Death Eaters,’ said Wilson.  
  
‘I stand with _Cal_!’ Tobias snapped, whirling to face him. ‘Because he’s my friend, because I don’t give a damn _who_ he is, and because he’s worth ten of you, you arrogant, self-righteous, judgemental Gryffindor bastard!’  
  
McLaggen gave a bark of laughter. ‘Your Dad would be _thrilled_ to hear you defend the son of a Death Eater, I bet.’  
  
Red flashed across Tobias’ vision, and the next thing he knew he had McLaggen pinned against the wall, wand thrust under his chin, and his voice came out in a furious rumble. ‘Don’t you talk what my father would like, or _ever_ try to use him as a tool, McLaggen, or I swear to God I will hex you six ways to Sunday.’  
  
He was distantly aware of voices raising behind him, and realised he’d set off a chain reaction. Wilson had gone for his wand, which meant the Slytherins had, too, and then most of the Gryffindors, and _now_ Jen Riley was kicking into action, wading into the middle and bellowing for both sides to stand down. She had a set of pipes to rival McGonagall when she _chose_ to act.  
  
But he didn’t care. McLaggen looked still too shocked to be afraid, the blood was rushing in his ears, telling him to kick off, blast him, and it was only when a hand fell gently on his forearm that he realised how close he’d come to acting.  
  
‘Toby…’  
  
His first thought was that it was Tanith, trying to calm him down so he didn’t lose his prefect’s badge. But it wasn’t. It was Annie, and that she was protecting McLaggen didn’t help his mood. He jerked away, wand lowering, and glared at her. ‘You’re not siding with _him_ , are you?’  
  
‘I will if you hex him!’ Annie retorted. ‘You’re acting crazy.’  
  
‘ _I_ _’m_ acting…’ He took a step back, and rounded on the gathered crowds. Tanith had been with Riley, uniting in an act which probably hurt her in her soul to stop this from becoming an all-out brawl. With the violence averted, all eyes were on him. ‘I’m not the one who seems to think that having a Death Eater father, even if you _don_ _’t even remember_ him and were raised by the man who _took him down_ makes you a Death Eater yourself!’  
  
‘Toby? Don’t bother.’ Cal hadn’t moved from the wall, flanked by Gabriel, whose hand hadn’t left his wand in the whole process. ‘They’re just proving themselves to be the hypocrites we’ve always known they are. So much for Gryffindor nobility.’  
  
‘Oh, _come on_ ,’ said Wilson, proving himself not that bright as his own girlfriend glowered at him for rising to the bait. ‘Death Eaters are from Slytherin, why _should_ we give you a free pass?’  
  
Tanith turned with icy control, and pulled Melanie Larkin’s copy of the _Daily Prophet_ from her hands. ‘No Gryffindors fell to the Dark Arts - oh, wait, I think Idaeus Robb would have something to say about that,’ she said, pointing at the picture of a tall, willowy man with dark, receding hair. ‘Not to mention the great Sirius Black himself!’  
  
‘Exceptions,’ said Wilson, wind going from his sails a bit.  
  
‘I think we should watch you,’ said Tanith, intentionally over the top. ‘I mean, you’re known for your _jokes_ against those who stand against the great, smug Nick Wilson; I remember what you did to those Hufflepuffs last year. Maybe _you_ _’re_ the Death Eater in training, with a nasty streak like that.’  
  
Wilson’s eyes flashed. ‘And I think _you_ need to stop pretending like you haven’t got corrupt friends! You’re just as likely to wind up that way yourself -’  
  
‘Hey!’ Tobias stepped forward again at that. ‘You’re talking to someone trying to become an Auror. What’re _you_ doing about the Death Eaters, Wilson? Bitching at a group of Slytherins?’  
  
‘Death Eaters recruited from Hogwarts last time,’ he pointed out. ‘Brynmor’s a Death Eater’s son; makes him a prime candidate.’  
  
Tobias glanced towards Cal at this, but he was nowhere to be seen. Gabriel remained at the edge of the crowds, arms folded across his chest as if gatekeeper for whichever way Cal had fled, but it was plain to see he’d had enough, left it all behind, and Tobias could only wonder how much he’d suffered before he’d removed himself.

 

§

  
  
‘You missed Potions. Snape isn’t pleased,’ Gabriel said as he crossed the grass to where Cal was perched on a tree stump, gazing across the lake. ‘I think you’ll need to go explain it to him.’  
  
‘Explain what? I was sulking, so I skipped class?’ Cal frowned at the rippling waters, not looking up. ‘I’ll just take the detention.’  
  
‘You never know. He might listen, considering everything.’ Gabriel sat on the stump next to him. ‘I know. Snape being understanding? Long shot.’ He handed his bundle over. ‘I stole some sandwiches from the lunch table.’  
  
Cal glanced down. ‘Thanks. But I’m not hungry. You don’t need to worry about me.’  
  
‘Is that you saying you don’t mind if I go? Or you saying you _want_ me to go? Because I got nothing more important to do than check up on you.’  
  
Gingerly, Cal reached for the bundle. ‘Well. If you got nothing better to do.’ He’d looked forward to breakfast, he reflected. Now a really late lunch was a chore.  
  
‘Caldwyn, do _not_ go all self-deprecating on me. You’ll talk yourself down, I’ll big you up, and either way I’m not going to do anything except sit here with my mate.’  
  
Cal took a bite of the sandwich so he didn’t have to answer. ‘Nobody else bothered to come down?’ he said at last.  
  
‘Oh, so you _did_ want attention.’ The corners of Gabriel’s lips curled with a tease.  
  
‘No, I just - I figured it’d be all of you showing up, not just you coming solo.’  
  
‘Tanith and Tobias are arguing. I thought I’d slip out, it’s getting irritating. Yes, Tobias snogs MacKenzie. Tanith needs to get over it.’  
  
‘Tell me about it.’ Cal handed over one of the sandwiches. ‘Though I bet she’s got new ammo to use with the Gryffindor display today.’  
  
‘And she’s using it. Not that she doesn’t have a point. They were bang out of order with what they did. I don’t know if our Gryffindors are dumber -’  
  
‘Everyone’s dumber in a crisis.’ Cal rubbed his temples. ‘I thought we’d got a peace accord with Wilson and McLaggen. I guess I was wrong. But everything’s going to hell everywhere in the school, with Umbridge and the Potter stuff.’  
  
‘The world’s turning against the Slytherins. Despite what Bletchley was saying, I think he loves it. He was talking with Warrington and some of the others in the common room when I left. I think they’re planning on upping their game. Kicking off in the corridors, maybe some duels amongst the NEWT students, that sort of thing.’ Gabriel’s lips thinned.  
  
‘You know,’ sighed Cal, ‘I never really liked Wilson, but I didn’t think he’d be as much of a tit as he was earlier.’  
  
‘Ignore them,’ said Gabriel. ‘They’re Gryffindor idiots. Anyone who suggests you’re a Death Eater in Training doesn’t know you. There’s nobody in the House more likely to give Malfoy a thump when he makes anti-Muggle-born comments. McLaggen’s a pureblood and doesn’t hide that he’s proud of it; _he_ _’s_ got more chance of becoming a Death Eater than you.’  
  
‘So? People don’t care about _me_ , or facts. All they care is that Thanatos Brynmor, renowned Death Eater, is my father. I’ve had to live with this for years.’  
  
‘Then ignore the bastards! _You_ _’re_ the only one who matters!’ Gabriel punched him on the shoulder. ‘You’re not the only one with a bleak bit of history. We’re the generation born _during_ the war. Things get complicated. People worthwhile will see you as who you are, not based on who you might be, or how you were born.’  
  
Cal drew a deep breath, and failed to fight the thought which had started to worm in his gut. ‘This is coming from you. _You_. You’re the one who cares most about blood. Tobias is a half-blood, he doesn’t care. Tanith has had a change in priorities. Not you.’  
  
‘Yes, but - look, Caldwyn, I’m not about to go collar a first-year Muggle-born and call them a Mudblood! Sure, I’d rather they _weren_ _’t_ at Hogwarts, but that doesn’t mean I want them all dead. I’ve a long way to go before I get there.’  
  
‘Except,’ said Cal, looking to him, ‘if blood dictates who and what we are, then shouldn’t I have tainted blood? If having pureblood parents makes you a better witch or wizard by default, then why’s Tobias the half-blood the best student in our year, maybe the whole damn school? If blood _really_ has such a sway over who we are, then why aren’t I running after Thanatos to learn Unforgivables off Death Eaters right now?’  
  
Gabriel stared at him, spluttering.  
  
‘Exactly,’ sighed Cal. He stood up, tossing the remains of his sandwich into the lake. ‘You always thought I didn’t give a damn about blood because that would condemn my foster-father - my _father_ , to hell with anything else, he _raised_ me. But I _have_ to not care about blood.’ He looked over his shoulder at Gabriel, eyes glittering. ‘Else I have to believe my blood makes me an evil bastard.’  
  
‘That’s mad,’ said Gabriel, launching to his feet. ‘You are who you are, and you’ll make your own lot out of life. Thanatos Brynmor has no more to do with it than any one of those escaped prisoners.’  
  
‘Sure.’ Cal nodded. ‘Then why do those who say lineage doesn’t affect Muggle-borns condemn _me_ for my family? And why do you, saying blood _does_ affect us, _not_ condemn me? We’re picking and choosing here, which makes neither of us right.’  
  
There was a long silence as Gabriel stared at him. Then he drew a deep breath. ‘Let’s get back. Maybe Tanith will have killed Tobias, and his Gryffind-whore will raise the lions up for vengeance. We might not have to worry about this.’  
  
It was, Cal knew, the closest to an acceptance of his words he was going to get. If Gabriel disagreed, he would have argued. His silence meant he’d heard and was, at the least, mulling it over. What the response was would remain to be seen, so he said no more as the two fell into step on the winding route back towards the castle.  
  
‘You know,’ he said after a minute, ‘once Tobias is finished with McLaggen, he’ll hex _you_ six ways to Sunday if he knows you called MacKenzie a whore. And I won’t stop him.’  
  
‘Let him,’ Gabriel growled. ‘I’m not feeling Gryffindor-friendly right now. Ask me again later, when MacKenzie actually sticks her neck out against those housemates of hers.’  
  
‘Like we do all the time when Montague’s taunting Muggle-borns.’  
  
Gabriel groaned. ‘It’s just the way of things, mate. It’s why Tobias and MacKenzie being together is a bad idea.’  
  
‘It is,’ Cal sighed. ‘And I suspect, despite today, that’s not going to change yet.’

 

§

  
  
‘If you hex McLaggen,’ said Tanith, ‘they’ll take your badge.’  
  
‘I know,’ growled Tobias as they stalked down the corridor. ‘But it’ll be worth it.’  
  
‘Then you’ll _never_ make Head Boy. I thought that was what you wanted?’  
  
‘What I want -’  
  
‘Grey! Cole!’  
  
He saw Tanith’s eyes roll skyward as they recognised the voice, but he forced himself to keep calm and _look_ calm as he turned to Jen Riley. And froze when he saw the Gryffindor prefect’s interception of them was joined not by Tom Everard, as he’d expect, but Annie.  
  
He swallowed, glad the corridors between potions classes and the library were quiet. ‘Hey.’  
  
‘The fuck do you want?’ said Tanith, always more to the point. ‘I can point you at Drake and Larkin if you fancy _Gryffindor vs Slytherin 2: This Time, We_ _’re All Arseholes_.’  
  
‘I didn’t come to fight,’ said Riley, catching her breath. ‘And this is a sort of two-pronged chat. Annie’s hijacking this so Grey doesn’t get a Gryffindor queue.’  
  
Annie rolled her eyes. ‘Thanks, Jen.’  
  
Tanith glared. ‘Do I need to be here for this?’  
  
‘I want to talk to you both,’ said Riley, and gestured down a side corridor. ‘Quietly.’  
  
‘Why, in case someone spots you talking to a Slytherin civilly?’  
  
‘Bloody hell, Cole, will you just _listen_?’  
  
Despite himself, Tobias glanced to Annie, and they exchanged small, amused looks at the sniping. He let out a deep breath, and made himself relax. ‘Alright, alright. What’s up?’  
  
Jen Riley glanced up and down the corridor and seemed to judge it quiet enough to talk. She still paused to gather herself, running a hand through her hair. ‘I’d like to apologise for this morning.’  
  
‘Which bit?’ said Tanith archly. ‘The part where Gryffindors jumped Cal for no reason, or the part where you did fuck all?’  
  
‘ _You_ didn’t intervene except to threaten people,’ Riley pointed out - then caught herself, exhaling. ‘I can’t apologise for the others. It wouldn’t be right.’  
  
‘That,’ said Annie dryly, ‘and they’re not sorry.’  
  
‘You _shock_ me,’ sneered Tanith.  
  
Riley’s lips thinned. ‘I _am_ sorry I didn’t do more, sooner. I didn’t expect this. It wasn’t decent of me as a prefect, and it wasn’t decent to you guys. _Or_ to Brynmor. I don’t have a problem with him; I don’t think the guys do generally, it’s just - everyone’s been so tense. They had to blow off steam.’  
  
Tobias folded his arms across his chest. ‘If I told you Montague and Pucey are just _blowing off steam_ when they’re pricks, you’d call me out for defending them.’  
  
She faltered. ‘Okay. Fair enough. It wasn’t good of them, and I should have stepped in. And I should _continue_ to step in. I don’t know how much they’ll listen, but I’ll try to get them to leave Brynmor, at least.’  
  
‘Where’s Everard?’ said Tanith sharply. ‘Shouldn’t he be here if Gryffindor prefects are finally doing their jobs?’  
  
‘I can’t talk for Tom,’ said Riley.  
  
Annie scoffed. ‘You say “jump”, Jen, he’ll say “how high”. The point is that Nick and Cormac _might_ listen to you, but they won’t listen to _him_.’  
  
‘It’s easy,’ Tanith continued. ‘You just withhold _privileges_ from Wilson until he behaves.’  
  
Riley ignored that. ‘The three of us - okay, four of us, with Tom - need an accord. We’ll smack down this issue.’  
  
‘I thought we _did_ that this morning.’  
  
‘ _Without_ threatening to hex people’s faces off, Cole.’  
  
‘Did a damn sight more than you wishing you were someplace else, _Riley_ -’  
  
‘Bloody hell!’ Tobias snapped. ‘Will you two stop for _five seconds_? Tanith, stop being so aggressive, Jen, stop rising to the bait. If we’re going to put an end to this, we need to actually work together.’  
  
Tanith stuck her nose in the air. ‘I’m just -’  
  
He rounded on her. ‘For _Cal_ _’s_ sake.’ That took the wind out of her sails, and she subsided with a guilty expression. He looked to Riley. ‘You’ve got a deal. We can’t stop Miles or Montague from doing their thing, but that’s always been the case.’  
  
‘Though you say, “deal”,’ mused Tanith, more calm. ‘This sounds more like “you contain McLaggen and Wilson, we reap the rewards.” Not that I’m complaining, but what’s our part in this?’  
  
‘For you to give us a chance,’ said Riley. ‘And make sure Brynmor and at least Doyle do, too. And, while I’m beating them in line, for you to just… evade instead of confront.’  
  
‘Run with our tails between our legs,’ muttered Tanith, but she caught Tobias’ glare. ‘Fine. Whatever. I’d like to take the lot of you to task for being judgemental hypocrites, but this is for _Cal_. He doesn’t want a fight. And he doesn’t deserve it.’  
  
Riley nodded. ‘That’s all I wanted. Peace accord.’ She glanced at Tanith. ‘In which case, Cole, you and I should clear out of here.’  
  
There was an arched eyebrow in response. ‘Really? Why would I -’  
  
Tobias grimaced. ‘Tanith, please?’  
  
She looked at him, at Annie, glanced at the ceiling - then turned away. ‘Fine. C’mon, Riley, I can brief you on exactly how you strip Wilson down to size -’  
  
‘Oh, joy, Tanith Cole wisdom on being a bitch; like I didn’t get a crash course in _that_ for the last six years…’  
  
Annie was covering her smirk with a hand as Tanith and Riley left the way they’d come, leaving just the two of them down this patch of abandoned corridor. ‘They _do not_ get on, do they.’  
  
‘I’m not sure Tanith gets on with anyone,’ sighed Tobias. He shoved his hands in his pockets, frowned at the walls, and wondered how he was supposed to start a conversation when he knew he wasn’t the one who was supposed to apologise. ‘So…’  
  
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, as easy as that. ‘I didn’t mean to tell you that you were _wrong_ this morning. I just - you really lost your temper at Cormac.’  
  
‘He said -’  
  
‘I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it.’ Annie lifted her hands, grimacing. ‘But you should have seen yourself. He’s about twice as big as you and you had him backed up against a wall.’  
  
His recollection remained fuzzy. ‘I guess I did, at that. I wouldn’t have hurt him.’ _Probably_. ‘I didn’t mean to worry you.’  
  
‘He and Nick can be… him and Nick… but their hearts are in the right place. It’s just sometimes their _brains_ aren’t.’  
  
‘Yeah, I imagine sharing a scant collection of braincells can displace things,’ Tobias drawled.  
  
‘I thought it was all going to kick off, I was just trying to stop you. A bit because I didn’t want to see Cormac get hurt, even if he deserved it. A bit because I didn’t want the situation to get worse. And I guess I…’ She grimaced, and rubbed the back of her neck. ‘I always thought of you as outside of these Slytherin-Gryffindor fights. Like I try to be.’  
  
‘If it’s Miles, or Ed, or Adrian, I am,’ he said, turning to face her, seeking her gaze - because he needed to make sure she was listening, and he needed to be sure she understood this. ‘But this was Cal. He’s my friend, he’s my brother, and he is not, is _not_ a bad guy. Whoever his father is, Cal isn’t _him_. And if people are going to give him hell, I’m going to be right by his side.’  
  
Despite his ardent tone of voice, a smile played about her lips. ‘Careful, Toby. You’re sounding Gryffindorish.’  
  
‘And you, scooting along with Riley to make peace after I was buttered up by _her_ peace offer. That’s a little Slytheriny,’ he pointed out.  
  
‘Yes, well. When it matters, I play to win.’ But her smile faded, and she met his gaze. ‘I _am_ sorry I didn’t back you up today. Everything happened fast, and I’ve not seen Nick in that kind of mood before. It’s different for us, free Death Eaters means more people who might hurt us.’  
  
Tobias winced. ‘I didn’t think of it that way,’ he admitted. Nick Wilson getting angry because he was a Muggle-born in the line of fire made a lot more sense. Cormac McLaggen having his back just like he, Tobias, had had Cal’s back, rang true. ‘But we’re in Hogwarts. We’re safe.’  
  
‘We’re not,’ said Annie, ‘but if I played it safe, I wouldn’t be chasing after a Slytherin, would I?’  
  
His heart surged as she smiled again, and he couldn’t help but return his own silly grin. ‘Who says I need chasing?’  
  
‘I guess I’m still figuring out how to read you.’ She took a cautious step closer. ‘I understand now you were backing up your friend.’  
  
Tobias’ expression twisted guiltily. ‘I’d be lying if I said I never kept my head down when _my_ housemates are dicks. And sometimes it happens fast.’  
  
She nodded, and reached out for her fingertips to brush against his, a request as much as an invitation. ‘So, what do you say, Toby? You accepted Jen’s peace accord, but… what about mine?’  
  
He smiled despite himself. ‘You know me. Ever the pioneer of ideals and principles… like inter-House cooperation,’ he said, but when she stepped in and kissed him, all principles - of Slytherins and Gryffindors, even of Death Eaters and their sons - could not have been swept further from his thoughts.  
  



	8. March 29th, 1996 - Sixth Year

  
‘At last! Finally, eyes have been opened! People are doing what has to be done!’ The grating voice of Draco Malfoy shot across the Slytherin common room, reactions varying from excitement to irritation but with genuine interest guaranteed by all - because, at the least, he clearly had news.  
  
‘Are we throwing the little twerp out the window?’ Cal muttered from the sofa he was sprawled across. ‘Because that’s beginning to sound like what needs to be done.’  
  
Tobias gave him a glare. ‘Don’t insult the prefects, Cal.’  
  
‘Yeah,’ said Tanith, perched on the armrest next to Cal. ‘Even if they _are_ little twerps.’ But she’d hopped to her feet before Tobias could turn on her, and raised her voice as she faced the commotion. ‘What’s happened, Draco?’  
  
Cal knew Tanith had to play nice due to family and business connections between the Coles and the Malfoys. It didn’t stop him from making a mocking expression, mercifully hidden from everyone except Gabriel, who grinned, and Tobias, who threw a wad of paper at him.  
  
Malfoy either was oblivious or ignoring the lack of respect from the corner, and hopped onto a coffee table, raising his arms. ‘As of tomorrow, the balance of power in this school will be changing! No more shall Dumbledore’s hand-picked lackeys run around with almighty power as prefects!’  
  
‘Yeah,’ Cal muttered. ‘You’re _such_ a lackey of Dumbledore’s aren’t you.’ Tobias gave him another look, but it was clear his interest was waning as he returned to reading his copy of the _Clarion_.  
  
‘Our new headmistress,’ Malfoy proclaimed, ‘is implementing new changes to move with the time. And one of these important changes, putting the power back into the hands of those who are loyal to the vision of Hogwarts’ future, is going to _strengthen_ that future…’  
  
Cal groaned audibly, staring at the ceiling. ‘Quit your blathering and get to the fucking point, Malfoy!’ he called out.  
  
A titter ran across the room, but Malfoy’s glance in his direction was disparaging before he waved a dismissive hand. ‘I would like to introduce you all to the Hogwarts Inquisitorial Squad, the new disciplinary and authoritative intermediary between the Head and the students!’  
  
A confused silence met this, until Tanith chirped up. ‘What’s it going to do? What’s going to happen to prefects?’  
  
‘They’ll remain,’ said Malfoy. ‘But they’ll be a second class of authority compared to the Inquisitorial Squad. Of course, all loyal Slytherins are welcome to join! I’ll be drawing up a list that will be submitted to Headmistress Umbridge for her confirmation. Speak to me to express your interest.’ Then, with all the aplomb of a politician who’d just made an election-winning speech, he hopped off the table and began to swagger about the room to talk with the crowds.  
  
‘The hell is this.’ Cal sat up. ‘What’s Umbridge’s game? What’s wrong with prefects?’  
  
The corner of Tobias’ paper flicked down and his grimace was plain. ‘Prefects were appointed by Dumbledore and Dumbledore’s staff. She wants a new powerbase here, people to enforce her Edicts who are _loyal_. Let’s face it, a Gryffindor prefect isn’t going to do that.’  
  
‘I bet the Hufflepuffs sit around playing Gobstones all day, or something, not discussing the political plight of the school,’ Gabriel sighed. ‘Lucky bastards.’  
  
‘No, just fools with low aspirations,’ said Malfoy as he swaggered over. ‘They don’t understand what’s going on here. Leave them to their games. They’ll understand, eventually.’  
  
Cal lounged back on the couch. He could feel a headache coming on. ‘I don’t doubt it. It must be very encouraging for you, Malfoy. Because once the Hufflepuffs begin to understand, you’ll just be one step behind them! Maybe you can ask them to help you figure out what’s going on?’  
  
Malfoy looked at him - then turned away as if he’d not been addressed, superior expression intact. Cal had to give him credit for poise as he looked to the others. ‘I assume you’ll be signing up, Tanith, Grey, Gabriel? After all, you’re just the sort we’re looking for.’  
  
‘Really?’ said Gabriel dryly, ‘you wound me, because I saw you just talking to Crabbe, Goyle, and Montague. I’m offended if you think we’re “that sort”.’  
  
Malfoy kicked Cal’s feet off the sofa so he could sit down. ‘Of course we need them. Muscle. Intimidation. But I’ll also need people with brains -’  
  
‘We know _that_ …’  
  
‘- to help out.’ Again, Malfoy ignored Cal. ‘The balance of power in the school is changing. It’s not Dumbledore and his bloody Gryffindors getting everything, every year, all the time. Aren’t you sick of that?’  
  
Cal sat up at this. ‘I guess Umbridge won’t take the House Cup away from us at the last second. And we bloody well deserved it. It’s all about his favouritism of Potter, you know.’  
  
Finally Malfoy acknowledged him with a thin smile. ‘You see my point. Umbridge won’t ignore other Houses breaking the rules. You _know_ we’re undermined every time we do something well. This Inquisitorial Squad is a chance to change that.’  
  
‘Will there be members from other Houses?’ said Tanith.  
  
He shrugged. ‘Some. Some _are_ suitably devoted.’  
  
‘Just some?’ Tobias looked sceptical. ‘That won’t be fair if there are loads of us -’  
  
‘It’ll be in our favour, yes, that’s the beauty of it.’ Malfoy’s hand curled into a fist. ‘It’s the right time to be a _Slytherin_. We don’t have to look at the rest of the school with shame any more.’  
  
Cal wasn’t sure Malfoy had ever shown shame for anything, and he could see Tobias was thinking the same thing as he sat up. ‘What about -’  
  
‘I like this,’ Gabriel interrupted, tossing his Transfiguration homework on the table. ‘It looks like we’ll win the Quidditch. Dumbledore’s not here to take the House Cup away from us. Maybe it’s time we can actually achieve on our own merits.’  
  
‘Instead of being labelled the black sheep of the school.’ Cal frowned, tempted despite himself. ‘Because we’re _evil_. Didn’t you get the memo?’  
  
Malfoy’s smile remained. ‘You understand. I’m sick and tired of our every achievement being put down to cheating, and every time we’re beaten it’s a long-overdue put-down. While Gryffindor can do no wrong.’  
  
‘Because they’re Dumbledore’s favourites,’ Cal muttered bitterly.  
  
‘So good and pure and brave and righteous and - oh, God, kill me now.’ Tanith rolled her eyes.  
  
‘This is all valid,’ said Tobias, voice guarded as he raised his voice. ‘And losing Dumbledore should fix this. I’m just not sure why we need a whole new authoritative regime.’  
  
Malfoy shrugged. ‘The prefects are all Dumbledore’s people. They’re anti-Slytherin, biased against us, opposing fairness within the school.’  
  
Even though the righteous indignation had started to sweep him along, Cal could recognise the blatant manipulation in Malfoy’s words. If he believed equality within the school was a worthy aspiration then he, Cal, was a Niffler. ‘You think Dumbledore’s bigoted leadership can’t fade if his pawns are still in place?’  
  
‘Then why don’t we replaced the prefects?’ said Tobias.  
  
‘Umbridge would,’ said Malfoy, ‘but that takes paperwork, and you need good reasons to do that. The House Heads would protect them, there’d be a whole fuss. You could remove one or two, but all of them?’  
  
‘It’s a mess,’ Tanith said thoughtfully. ‘The prefects would have to have their duties downscaled for it to work, though. And you want us to sign up?’  
  
Malfoy nodded. ‘You’re all good, solid Slytherins. You have brains, not like Montague and Pucey. Think about it. The chance to let the Gryffindors who’ve mocked you pay.’  
  
Tobias sat up. ‘Keeping discipline shouldn’t be about _vengeance_ -’  
  
‘The chance to rip House points off McLaggen for being a self-righteous turd,’ Cal said with a wistful sigh.  
  
‘So it’s decided,’ said Malfoy. ‘All four of you?’  
  
Tanith shrugged. ‘Don’t see why not.’  
  
Cal grinned. Tanith was a harsh but fair prefect, and he couldn’t see her accepting her powers being stripped back. She was also the canniest of all of them when it came to Slytherin politics, and stepping away from this would cause a certain upheaval. But he, for his part, just wanted to see Cormac McLaggen and his cronies pay. And he didn’t care how petty it was. ‘Count me in.’  
  
Gabriel looked back at his homework. ‘Sure. So long as I don’t have to _talk_ to idiots in other Houses.’  
  
Malfoy smirked and looked at Tobias, who remained silent. ‘Grey?’  
  
Tobias lifted his paper. ‘Nope.’  
  
‘…no?’  
  
‘I’m a prefect. Why do I need to be a member of the Inquisitorial Squad?’ The corner of Tobias’ paper twitched down, his expression suggesting this idea was on a par with wearing two pairs of trousers at once.  
  
Malfoy bristled. ‘Moving with the times, Grey. Showing Hogwarts is changing. Shrugging off Dumbledore’s old regime. Stepping up and doing what’s necessary for Slytherins.’  
  
Tobias waved a dismissive hand. ‘I can do that as a prefect. I don’t need to be part of Umbridge’s brute squad, if that’s all the same to you.’  
  
Malfoy stood, expression twisting. ‘Grey, do you understand what you’re saying?’ His voice suggested he believed Tobias rather simple. ‘You’re clinging to Dumbledore’s ways.’  
  
Tobias fixed him with a cold look. ‘I’m sticking with this Muggle idiom: _If it ain_ _’t broke, don’t fix it._ ’  
  
Tanith stood quickly, moving to Malfoy’s side and guiding him away by the elbow. ‘I’ll talk to him, he’s just in a mood,’ Cal heard her hiss, and from the way Tobias’ eyes flashed, he fancied he heard too. But this placated Malfoy enough to make him leave with his list, looking disgruntled.  
  
She turned back, jaw clenched, and Cal resisted the urge to hide under the sofa. Their relationship had been much more tense these past three months - which of course could have nothing to do with what had happened at New Year’s. And, yes, there Cal was, about to turn into a Niffler again if he believed that.  
  
Minor arguments were now much more heated, especially when they coincided with new information about Tobias’ relationship with Annie MacKenzie, the relationship that stubbornly refused to die. Neither Cal nor Gabriel would _dream_ of telling her the snippets that reached them through Tobias, and Tanith didn’t move in circles to hear the Gryffindor gossip, but the grape-vine was powerful. When she got a snippet, she got snippy. When she didn’t get a snippet, she snapped. For any reason she could find under the sun.  
  
This situation sounded like a _great_ reason to snap, and Cal grabbed his Quidditch magazine as she opened her mouth.  
  
‘That wasn’t smart, Toby.’  
  
Cal peered over the top of the magazine. No last names. First name, in a _familiar_ form. Was this a sneak attack?  
  
Tobias shrugged. ‘I don’t care. I refuse to sign up to that old toad’s personal team of bullies. I’m a prefect, I’m here to keep the peace, and I can do that fine as I am.’  
  
‘I said it wasn’t _smart_ , not that it wasn’t practical. You’ve rejected Malfoy, but more importantly you’ve rejected _Umbridge_. She’s a Slytherin supporter, and she sees we were _always_ going to be her most loyal allies against Dumbledore.’ She planted her hands on her hips, biting her lip with a frustration Cal was still surprised wasn’t being taken out on Tobias.  
  
‘Yeah, imagine that,’ muttered Gabriel. ‘Dumbledore marginalises us for decades and we turn out to have no loyalty to him.’  
  
Tanith didn’t snap at him for interrupting this private discussion being held in public. Cal now wondered if the apocalypse was already happening beyond their walls. ‘You have a point, Gabe,’ she said instead. ‘The prefects are from Dumbledore’s institution. They were appointed by him, they enforced his rule.’  
  
‘They enforce _Hogwarts_ rule, Tanith.’ Tobias sounded snippy at last. ‘And have done for centuries. This is bigger than Dumbledore, _Hogwarts_ is bigger than Dumbledore. Umbridge just can’t see this. I refuse to sign myself up to her bid for power and control.’ He stood. ‘You know this is wrong. You all know this is stupid. So I refuse to sit here and listen to you try to convince yourselves that this is a good idea.’  
  
Cal watched him stalk towards the dorms, nonplussed. ‘I don’t know why he’s sulking,’ he said. ‘He could give Summerby detention for a year for drooling over MacKenzie. He’d like that.’  
  
Tanith snorted. ‘Grey’s just being stupid. He’ll see sense soon enough. The Inquisitorial Squad might be bollocks, but he knows how to play the game, he learnt with us.’  
  
‘The game’s stupid and boring, but it _does_ give us a quiet life,’ said Gabriel. ‘I thought he preferred that.’  
  
‘He’s just wound up because this is a “principle” thing.’ Tanith smirked. ‘He’ll come around once he sees sense.’  
  
‘You said that about him and MacKenzie. Three months together, and still going strong.’  
  
Cal was unsurprised when Tanith threw him a glare and stalked off to her dormitory without another word. ‘Smooth, Gabe. Real smooth.’  
  
Gabriel shrugged. ‘Whatever. I’m right. She’s being just as dumb as him. At least he’s not so up to his neck in denial he’s going to be swallowed whole. Remember Valentine’s Day?’  
  
Cal groaned. The Hogsmeade trip had been hellish, the two of them with Tanith while she kept conjuring up reasons to seek out and pester Tobias to interrupt his date with Annie. After two intrusions, they’d dragged her to the Three Broomsticks and bought her drinks until she gave up on embarrassing everyone involved.  
  
‘Denial is not just a river in Egypt,’ Cal sighed, ‘and Tanith is definitely not an Africa sort of person - _ow!_ ’ He jerked at the swat on the back of his head, and looked up to see Tanith stood over him, glaring. ‘I thought you were pissed with Gabe?’  
  
She shrugged. ‘I forgot my quill,’ she said, grabbing it and turning to go.  
  
He laughed. ‘Yeah, that’s it, Tanith. Try that dramatic, angry exit again. It has more impact the second time in as many - _ow_!’

 

§

  
  
‘I was very surprised to see your name was not on the list submitted to me by Draco Malfoy, Mister Grey.’  
  
Tobias kept his back ramrod-straight as he stood before the desk of the Headmistress in her office. He had taken no small degree of satisfaction from the Office of the Head of Hogwarts refusing her entry, but he wasn’t going to show it right now. Even if a cheap mockery of power suited Umbridge perfectly.  
  
‘You were?’ He settled on dumb neutrality for safety for now.  
  
She peered at him over her spectacles with beady eyes. ‘Indeed. You are a fore-running prefect in your year. A prime candidate for Head Boy. One of the shining examples to your peers in Slytherin House. I would have thought to see you as one of the _first_ names on the list.’  
  
Tobias winced. ‘I am, as you say, miss, a prefect. As such, I do not see any need to sign up for the… Inquisitorial Squad. The duties I wish to perform for Hogwarts can are covered by my responsibilities as a prefect of the Sixth Year of Slytherin House.’  
  
She narrowed her eyes, but after years of Tanith Cole’s angry glares, Umbridge’s were inconsequential. ‘You do not recognise this as a great opportunity to prove your worth to the school? The Inquisitorial Squad is something else entirely. I would have thought you would aspire to more, like a good Slytherin.’  
  
‘There are many schools of thought as to what makes a “good Slytherin”, miss,’ said Tobias neutrally.  
  
‘The other prefect of your year, Tanith Cole - a good friend of yours? - has signed up for the Squad.’  
  
‘That’s her choice.’  
  
‘As has Caspian Warrington, Esmerelda Fawcett, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson. You are the _only_ Slytherin prefect to not.’  
  
‘Yes, miss.’  
  
‘May I ask what makes you so different to all your compatriots? What might make you unsuitable?’ Her voice took on a syrupy, sickly sweetness of condescension.  
  
He was impassive as he spotted her trap. ‘If all Slytherin were the same, it would be a very dull House.’ No, that was a schoolyard retort. Tanith thought she played ‘the game,’ thought she was unrivalled. But he knew now he’d entered a whole new echelon in this conversation. ‘It’s about my scheduling.’  
  
‘You do not believe yourself capable of sustaining both duties _and_ your studies? Your Housemates believe _they_ can.’  
  
He gave a vacant, polite smile as she reached the conclusion he wanted her to. ‘Not at all. But these individuals have been fully dedicated to their roles as prefects. If their attention is now on their duties as members of the Inquisitorial Squad - and I _know_ they will be devoted - it simply stands to reason that they will be unable to perform as prefects to their full capacity.’  
  
‘The Inquisitorial Squad takes precedence over prefects in matters of discipline. The prefects are merely… backups.’  
  
‘In matters of discipline, yes, as you say. But there are other prefect duties. Organising celebrations in the school, room allocation and supervision of the societies you have permitted to be reformed since Educational Decree Twenty-Four. There is more to a prefect’s duties than patrols and House Points. _And_ as not all other prefects of other Houses are on the Inquisitorial Squad, it would cause an imbalance of power if Slytherin prefects did not keep up those duties.’  
  
Umbridge’s sweet smile convinced neither of them. ‘So you are sacrificing yourself for the good of Slytherin?’  
  
‘I am,’ said Tobias. ‘Which brings me to my next point about the Squad. I’ve not seen a _single_ non-Slytherin on the list of potential members. Which is unfair.’  
  
‘The Squad is an instrument of change. Out with the old, in with the new, a new shining future. Slytherins have been excellent in seeing the flaws in the old system, which makes them perfect for the Squad. Members of other Houses are still… _misguided_ by Albus Dumbledore’s teachings. Which makes them unsuitable. It is as simple as that.’  
  
‘The prefect system has worked for _centuries_ ,’ Tobias pointed out. ‘And it will continue to work for centuries more when your Inquisitorial Squad has faded into nothing, a failed experiment of control.’  
  
 _So much for staying cool._  
  
Umbridge made a steeple of her short, stubby fingers. ‘This is a very unnerving display from someone of your status, Mister Grey. Professor Snape always spoke highly of you. I had always assumed it would be _you_ who would make Head Boy next year. But it seems that his faith was misplaced, not if you feel this way about the future.’ Her eyes met his coldly. ‘You will not join the Squad?’  
  
Tobias tightened his jaw as he saw this chance to back down, to fall in line. He drew a sharp breath, and gave the answer they’d both expected. ‘I will not.’  
  
‘Then I think that your attitudes will be of no use amongst the prefects, either.’ She stuck out her hand. ‘I would like your badge, Mister Grey. It should go to someone who understands what Slytherin House needs.’  
  
He rocked at that, eyes widening. ‘What?’  
  
Umbridge remained impassive. ‘Your badge. I’m removing you as a prefect of Slytherin House.’  
  
With numb fingers, he reached to unpin the shiny badge. The culmination of all his work in Hogwarts, all of his efforts to be recognised. He’d always taken good care of it. Polished it, made sure it was visible. It was a symbol demanding respect, and he respected it.  
  
It came away from his robe so easily, and he hesitated, turning it over in his hands.  
  
‘It is a shame,’ said Umbridge, jerking him from his reverie. ‘You would have made an excellent Head Boy.’  
  
He scowled, no longer needing any masks, and tossed the badge down. It landed with a dull _thump_ , no satisfying rattles, and he didn’t wait for a dismissal before he turned on his heel and stalked out of Umbridge’s office.  
  
He’d run terrified through the Quidditch World Cup as Death Eaters caused havoc. He’d humiliated himself in front of his best friend when trying to win her affections. He’d been accused of betraying his father by smug Gryffindors. But this - today - had to be the worst day of his life.  
  
The corridors were abuzz with lunchtime fuss, ignoring his troubles. He’d been hungry and hoped the meeting with Umbridge could go quickly when he’d been summoned, but his stomach had now folded into a tiny, tight ball. He didn’t know where he was going, just stormed down the corridors, and so almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a voice calling his name.  
  
‘Toby! Hold up!’ Even the sight of Annie, detaching herself from a gaggle of Gryffindors to join him, couldn’t calm the thudding in his heart. ‘There you are! I’ve been looking for you all morning.’  
  
‘I was… around,’ he said, shrugging. He tried to not glare over her shoulder at McLaggen and Wilson, their group of Gryffindors carrying on their way. But he saw her expression twitch, just a little, just enough to remind him she wasn’t hugely fond of his tendencies - drilled into him by years in Slytherin House - of evasion. ‘I had to talk to Professor Umbridge.’  
  
She frowned. ‘About the Inquisitorial Squad?’ The words were like a curse.  
  
‘Yeah. Look…’ Her presence was starting to slow down his racing brain and racing heart, and he let out a slow breath. She’d listen, wouldn’t she? Let him offload? Wasn’t that meant to be a part of a relationship?  
  
‘Hang on. I need to talk to you.’ Her expression tightened, and she glanced around. ‘Can we go somewhere a bit more out of the way?’  
  
He looked down the corridor. His mind, still working as a prefect, insisted that empty classrooms weren’t an option - but who was going to kick up a fuss today? ‘In here,’ he said, and moved for the nearest door. The Charms classroom was unlocked and empty this time of day, students at lunch, Flitwick in the staffroom.  
  
He closed the door behind them, and folded his arms across his chest as he looked at her. ‘What is it?’ A cold feeling was settling in his gut, and he couldn’t tell if he was reading something on her, or just upset after Umbridge.  
  
‘Well, this just got… blown up bigger.’ Annie rubbed her temples before perching on the edge of a desk. ‘Look, everything’s going crazy. Umbridge, the Slytherin Squad -’  
  
‘Inquisitorial Squad, it’s not a Slytherin Squad,’ he said automatically. ‘Anyone with the “right views,” from any House, is eligible to join.’ He’d meant to be mocking, but he’d had too many pummelling blows to summon the right note of sarcasm - or any sarcasm at all.  
  
She scowled. ‘Right views? Views of blood supremacy, absolute rule, disciplining anyone the members don’t _like_? I didn’t think you’d be in with any of that crap, Toby.’  
  
He returned the glare. ‘What makes you think I am? You’re just assuming I’m a member.’  
  
‘You’re not?’  
  
He _should_ have shaken his head, taken her hand, and assured her he was the same old Tobias. But he could hear the shade of doubt in her voice, and it kicked the emptiness in his gut. ‘I didn’t say that. I’m just pointing out you’re jumping to conclusions.’  
  
‘Conclusions? The _entirety_ of Slytherin House has jumped up and started to stomp all over the bloody school!’  
  
‘While Gryffindors are little angels and never do anything to anyone.’  
  
‘I didn’t say that - and there’s no _Gryffindor Squad_ , that’s really not the point!’  
  
‘Oh?’ He arched an eyebrow. ‘Then what _is_ the point? Slytherin’s finally stopped being the whipping boy and you don’t like it?’  
  
‘You’re saying Slytherins have been an _oppressed minority?_ Are you mad?’ Annie MacKenzie, Muggle-born, stood and threw her hands in the air. ‘You push back just as hard! You _start_ it!’  
  
‘Sink or swim.’ He shrugged. ‘You’re having problems with my House, my classmates. What’s your point? What’s this got to do with me?’  
  
‘I can’t believe you’re not condemning this crap.’  
  
‘Why bother?’ he scoffed. ‘You decided from the beginning I’m in cahoots with the rest of the House. I thought we’d established my views weren’t those of the rest of Slytherin, but is it too hard to remember that? Let me guess, you’re getting trouble for going out with me, and you don’t like it.’  
  
She stopped, and he knew she was right. ‘With this Squad - I mean, I’ve had to put up with Cormac and Nick all along, but now it’s even Katie, even _Jen_ …’  
  
‘They’re telling you that the two of us is a bad idea, and now you’re having doubts. I’m glad you can make your own choices. Everyone around you has doubled in Slytherin-hate, and so _you_ don’t want to take the flak for being the girlfriend of a snake,’ he snapped, chin tilted up angrily.  
  
‘It’s not that.’ Her voice found strength at last. ‘I don’t want anything to do with this Inquisitorial Squad nonsense. And I won’t be with someone who thinks it has a point, who thinks it’s fair. You know Warrington already took points off some Ravenclaws this morning for _being Muggle-born_? Of course there were no teachers there, but he _did it_ , and got away with it. I won’t tolerate this.’  
  
‘So you won’t tolerate me.’ He sighed and straightened. ‘I’m not a member of the Inquisitorial Squad. I just spoke with Professor Umbridge, who wanted to know why I, a senior Slytherin, didn’t want to. I told her exactly what I thought of her rule and of this brute squad.’ He shrugged, his words sounding distant and detached to his ears. ‘So she took my prefect’s badge.’  
  
It sounded so petty when he said it - a badge? What was a badge in the grand scheme of things? But saying it was another blow to the gut, and he knew it was about more than a pin.  
  
Annie gaped at him. ‘I didn’t know - I’m _sorry_ -’  
  
‘It’s more than that, though, isn’t it.’ He glared at a point on the wall above her head. ‘Now, the Squad _is_ mostly Slytherins, and I’m a Slytherin. I’m still associated with people who are doing what you don’t like. So you don’t want to be publicly connected with me. Only you, Annie, being a good and decent Gryffindor, aren’t going to say that.’  
  
‘That’s not fair,’ she snapped, a little too forcefully.  
  
‘But it’s true.’ He straightened. ‘And you assumed, without even _asking_ me, that I’d signed up for the Squad. So I’m going to make this easy for you. You won’t dump me just because I’m a Slytherin? But _I_ can dump _you_ for thinking _that_ little of me, for assuming my morals are _that_ weak. Because if you could think that, you really don’t know me, and you _really_ don’t respect me.’  
  
He yanked the classroom door open. ‘And I’m not going to waste my time on someone who doesn’t respect me. I get enough of that from other Slytherins,’ he sneered, and for the second time in an hour stalked angrily from a room.

 

§

  
  
‘What _are_ you doing?’  
  
Tanith opened her eyes to see the upside-down face of Ariane Drake. She shrugged as best she could while standing on her head. ‘Breathing exercise.’  
  
Ariane straightened, eyebrow raised at the acrobatics in the corner of their dormitory, and headed for her bed. ‘You’re getting weirder.’  
  
‘I’ve been reading up. Auror stuff. Since career day.’ Talking at all negated the point of a breathing exercise, she thought. ‘Things they do. Techniques for focus. That stuff.’ She rolled back onto her feet, staggering as the blood rushed from her head.  
  
Ariane gave a lopsided smile. ‘Did Van Roden tell you that?’  
  
‘I think he might have been fucking with me.’  
  
‘This could be a strange notion, dear, but you might prepare better for becoming an Auror with _Potions_ revision.’  
  
‘Maybe I could do both. Stand on my head and revise.’  
  
The door opened for Melanie to step in, fresh from Arithmancy - and behind her, lurking at the threshold, was a tentative-looking Gabriel. ‘I come bearing Doyle,’ she declared, flopping onto her bed and looking ready to die for the weekend. ‘Said he had news.’  
  
He beckoned Tanith. ‘This won’t take a minute.’  
  
It had to be something if he wanted a word in private. She stepped out and closed the door behind her, and her brow furrowed as she took in Gabriel’s rather serious face. ‘What’s up?’  
  
‘It’s Tobias. He talked to Umbridge.’  
  
‘I knew he was going to - it didn’t go well?’  
  
‘He got uppity. Refused to join the Squad. Got all… idealistic.’  
  
‘All Grey-like.’ She winced. ‘What happened?’  
  
‘She took his prefect badge?’  
  
‘Shit. Is he okay? Where is he?’  
  
‘Common room.’ But Gabriel grabbed her elbow when she moved. ‘That’s not all. He’s not in a good way. Seems he ran into MacKenzie after.’  
  
‘I’m _sure_ she was comforting.’ Tanith wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or not.  
  
‘She dumped him. Or he pre-emptively dumped her, or - they broke up.’ His gaze was on her, eyes roaming her face for some sort of reaction.  
  
She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction a response. ‘How’s he taking it?’ she said, voice forcibly neutral.  
  
‘He’s with Cal. Just Cal.’  
  
‘I see.’ She paused, then patted him on the arm. ‘I’ll talk to him later. Thanks for the heads up, Doyle.’  
  
Without waiting for a response, she returned to the dormitory and closed the door carefully behind her. When she turned, the inquisitive and not-so-subtle eyes of Melanie and Ariane were on her, and she lifted a hand. ‘Just give me a moment,’ she told them.  
  
Then she did a small, ridiculous, and thoroughly undignified dance of glee.  
  
Melanie exchanged glances with Ariane. ‘I guess this means that Grey’s kicked-puppy look in Arithmancy means MacKenzie dumped him.’  
  
‘ _Oh_ ,’ said Ariane, like this made perfect sense.  
  
Tanith stopped dancing, the latent guilt rising to the forefront. ‘I’m a bad person. He’s really upset. That was bad of me. He’s not in a good way?’  
  
Melanie rolled her eyes. ‘Dumped people generally aren’t happy. You two would be cute if you weren’t so nauseating.’  
  
‘No, I’m just glad he’s better off _without_ that Gryffindor cow. He’d be far, far happier with someone like -’  
  
‘You?’ Ariane smirked.  
  
‘I’d feel this way if it was Cal or Doyle!’ Tanith insisted. ‘MacKenzie was trouble, I was saying this _all along_!’  
  
Melanie sighed at the ceiling. ‘You have issues.’  
  
‘You _danced_ , Tanith, that’s a rather telling reaction,’ added Ariane.  
  
‘Look, the day’s gone horribly for a friend,’ said Tanith, scrabbling for justification. ‘I’m just basking in the knowledge that it can’t get worse.’  
  
Melanie laughed. ‘I’m so glad you’re lying, or I’d think you were evil, not jealous.’  
  
‘I am _not_ jealous -’ There was a knock at the door, and, grateful for the interruption, Tanith turned. ‘Come in!’  
  
Gabriel stuck his head in. ‘Oh, I forgot to say. Miles is the new Slytherin prefect.’  
  
‘ _Miles_?’ Tanith glared. ‘Would it _kill_ you or Cal to do something good for once?’  
  
He blinked. ‘Just passing on the message,’ he said, and retreated.  
  
Ariane snickered as the door shut again. ‘Serves you right.’  
  
‘Fine. Fine! I’m going to talk to Grey,’ snapped Tanith, and glared at their expressions. ‘Because he’s my _friend_ and he’s _upset_ , not because - I’m not even going to bother with you two,’ she declared, and stomped out of the room.  
  
Melanie looked at Ariane when they were alone, and smirked. ‘So,’ she said. ‘Do you think she’s lying, or in denial?’  
  
Ariane laughed. ‘Oh, it can be both, dear. It can be both.’  
  



End file.
